


Navigating The Curve

by JulietteLyst



Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Literal Bed Sharing - Freeform, Literal Sleeping Together, Mood Swings, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Other tags to be added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Romance, Slow Burn, Unplanned Pregnancy, non-established relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 75,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25820569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietteLyst/pseuds/JulietteLyst
Summary: When you try to amend past mistakes, sometimes you make bigger mistakes... like disappearing for months or accidentally being thrown into another universe. What? That doesn't happen to everyone?
Relationships: Peter Parker/Jennifer Walters, Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	1. Lemons

Disclaimer: I love Marvel. I don’t own any part of anything though, so this is just my take on everything. I hope you enjoy!

Navigating The Curve

By Juliette Lyst

\---

  1. Lemons



Every day was melding into the next. They were the exact same. Time was stretching on forever. How long had he sat in the same exact spot, staring at the barred window and tried to figure out a way of the situation he was in? The sunlight outside the bars seemed to mock him, the songs of birds welcoming the day had begun to fray his nerves. When had he become like this? When had things changed so much? Sunsets were even harder…the bright bloom of colors bringing with them promises that he would still be suffering the next day. Nighttime he found himself preferring. He’d rise off his bunk as the sun slowly slipped from the skies, the emanating shadows beginning to drown out all of the light. The previous day, he had requested shades. He wanted something—anything—to block out the light. He felt that inside he was becoming the same…the gloomy abyss of his soul seemed endless. The wall above his bunk had a series of scratches. Looking at his right hand – the fingers stained with fresh and drying blood, he walked over to the wall. He made another long scratch on the wall, a slight hiss sliding from his lips from the pain as he tore open an old wound. With his own blood he was trying to keep account of the time.

His left hand lightly gripped the inhibiting collar around his neck, his teeth grinding together. It was wrong for him to be restrained like this. Hearing a scratching noise overhead, he lifted his head to look at the lone speaker up there. “Don’t worry. I’m not tinkering with your little toys!” He called at them. He knew _they_ were there watching every little thing he did...knew that his request for a shades had been denied. Those who held him prisoner knew the agony that each sunrise brought him. _They want me to feel pain._ Instead of them simply accepting his request for what it was, it was scrutinized. Every little move he made was studied, ever action resulted in a flurry of activity. What he had received in return for a want of solace was even more bothersome security. More eyes on him. “I am a mere man, after all. What can I do?” His question was quiet, rhetorical. He knew very well what he was capable of. Did they?

Sitting down on his bunk again, he waited. While he stagnated there, he had learned to count – everything. The seconds, down to the millisecond when his meals would arrive. If anything, the security here was punctual. That would be their downfall. His bare right foot tapped on the filthy stone floor. To the casual observer, he was merely displaying characteristic behavior of someone impatient – or someone about to break. Hunching his shoulders, a tenuous smile crossed his lips. As expected, he heard a scraping noise under the tiny slot under his door. Twisting his torso, he saw a plate shoved though the slot…grimacing as some of the food on the plate shifted from touching the top of the slot. Swallowing hard, from a sudden surge of revulsion, he again raised his eyes to the speaker and took off the thick spectacles he wore. His brown eyes narrowed, the left one twitching just a little. Remaining quiet as he continued to stare at the speaker… eventually, he heard a crackling noise.

“Food is going to get cold. If you don’t eat now, no breakfast.” He understood quite clearly what that meant. The plate would sit and grow stagnant. Even if it had maggots, they wouldn’t care – he knew. Instead of responding verbally, he put his glasses back on. Finally, he rounded his bunk and went to retrieve his dinner. When he did utter a sound, it was a sigh of disappointment. The same slop as the previous night and before. A flavorless chicken leg sat in a sea of bland mashed potatoes and overcooked peas. Balancing the plate on his legs, he proceeded to eat with his left hand. He was deemed a threat so was not granted cutlery to eat with. His plate wasn’t even usable as a weapon. From experience, he knew that the longer he took to eat, the higher the risk that the paper plate would buckle from the extra fluid and spill his food on the floor.

That had happened his first night there. Instead of them replacing the meal, he’d been left to eat it off the floor. For a few days after that – he had to battle against flies and ants that were drawn to the smells and fluids from his food. He had to pile the remains of the plate together and push it through the slot. It didn’t help that he never knew when anyone was coming. All around the cell, he was surrounded by stone and concrete. The only light he saw was from the barred window of his cell and the slot where he had to rely on food or other supplies to come through.

When he was done eating, the bone from the chicken was balanced on the plate and shoved through the slot. Dipping his head as he heard the bones impact wetly against opposite wall, he hid a smile. Returning to his bunk, he laid down, placing his glasses in a safe place on the floor away from where he slept. Quietly…he listened and counted the footsteps of the guard who came to retrieve the plate. _Twenty…_ He thought to himself, nodding a little. Gradually, he had begun to study the number of steps needed to cross the room just out of his visual range.

_Two Days Later_

“Those infernal birds.” He grumbled, completing another set of pushups in what space he had in his cell. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the small pile of bones underneath his bunk. Sweat dripped onto the floor under him as he continued to exercise. If there was one benefit from the last three months, he had begun to put everything into focus. Being the best right now was not what was important. Escape was more important. His formerly weakened body was growing stronger by the day too. The excess weight he had carried for years had dropped off initially from the restrictive meals. In time, he’d begun to notice that he was building muscle too. Not that he would have to lift a finger to get out of there. A grim smile crossed his lips as he continued his pushups. Gradually, he had been collecting parts from the chicken bones, tying them together with sinew from the meat and storing it. He was fashioning himself a little tool. He’d been able to feel around and study the collar around his neck without the use of a mirror, and found there was a way out. It wasn’t that the designers had failed to make an impregnable tool to suppress him. They just hadn’t expected him to figure a way around their trap. The miscalculation would prove to be their undoing. The desire to see that day gave him motivation to keep going.

Once he felt the muscles in his arms quivering, he stopped and painfully rose to his feet. Wet brown hair stuck to his glasses. Flicking the locks back, he removed his glasses and moved to the shower. The final indignity he’d had to suffer was an open bathroom. He had a toilet, shower and very few bathing supplies. A faint bit of static was audible from the speaker overhead. There were four cameras trained on him in the cell at all times. The knowledge that he was being observed when taking care of even his basic hygiene had stirred the first bits of emotion that he’d felt since waking after a month-long coma to find out how thoroughly he was defeated in battle. _Patience…patience…_ He knew that soon the silence in his head would be gone. As he used the soap and water available to scrub himself clean, he could allow himself to temporarily imagine what it would like to be outside again…feel the wind in his hair.

“Laundry day! Have your sheets ready in the next hour!” Came unbidden over the speaker. Goosebumps rose on his skin and choking down his resentment, he called back to them.

“Yes. They will be ready!” _And soon, so will I._ He thought furiously.

*

Tinkering had been a habit from early on. When he was small, he remembered always running to his mother with some new contraption that he’d created. He was fascinated with moving parts and in his early days worked with bits of wood and scrap metal. His first “trinkets” were powered by small switches or cranks in the back. Eventually, he progressed to creating working springs first from wood. Later on, he started ‘saving’ metal springs from broken clothespins and repurposed them. His mother was charmed, showering praise on him for his accomplishments. It didn’t matter how small and useless the item was, she never had a bad word to say. This was why they were so close when he was a boy.

His father was different. His father was a self-described “man’s man” and didn’t appreciate his son wasting so much time on what he called “poorly fused bits of woodcarvings and bent metals”. He didn’t like the physical activities that his father saw as a rite of passage, preferring to stay indoors. As a child, he’d been diagnosed with nearsightedness, a condition that would follow him through life and cause pain. At school and home, he was stuck wearing large square rimmed glasses with very thick lenses. Bullies became part of his daily reality. He often was tripped in class due to intentionally misplaced feet. He had to deal with papers being shoved off his desk and even having his homework stolen. Fear kept him from speaking up against those who did him so wrong. Was it terrifying? Yes. After going home though, he was relatively safe. Until one day he wasn’t able to catch his balance quickly enough. Smacking face first into the hard linoleum floor, the lenses of his glasses were broken…the frames bent. He ended up going to the principal’s office along with the student who tripped him. 

The principal decided only to suspend the bully for three days. When confronted about how he handled the bully in the past, he’d confessed that there was more than one. His father wanted him to fight them back, but he refused. His mother had told him that what made him so strong and special was his ability to avoid violence. Violence, she had explained, never solved problems. If anything, being violent only made matters worse. His father took offense to that and argued with his son to fight off his bullies. He refused. Their relationship deteriorated further as his father was always angry. He started to lose his temper in fits of rage. Slaps swiftly turned into shoves and then punches. One day…the first to unfortunately be of many, his father lost his temper and beat him until he could barely get out of bed. His mother had been left to care for him. He had missed two weeks of school, which hurt him more than the healing bruises and cracked ribs he had sustained. He loved school, loved learning. He had foolishly assumed that earning top grades in school would impress his father. What was more important? The temporary clout of scoring a goal on the field or advancing science?

When his father died years later in an accident at work, he wasn’t that hurt at all. In truth, he had grown to hate the man. Instead of focusing on his losses, he had focused on his success. Graduating at the top of his class at M.I.T, he’d had a bright future ahead.

How swiftly things can change.

*

“Hello twilight, my aged colleague... What a disaster to reunite anew.” He hummed softly to himself, curled up in bed. Quite by mistake, he’d found out that they failed to use thermal cameras at night. As he hummed, curled up in bed, his right hand went to work on the collar. There was a precise sequence needed. Two tools were in fact needed. While shielding his right hand, his left hand slowly moved to press into the correct notches that were needed to disconnect him from the collar. The entire time, his moves were measured and slow…as he was simulating being half asleep. As he worked furiously, sweat began to bead on his forehead.

An eternity passed it seemed, then the satisfying soft click was heard as the collar popped open. He only had a moment to savor it before a very familiar sibilant sound filled his head. He could hear them. If only he could focus… Smiling fully then, he rolled onto his back and folded his arms behind his head. The speaker on the wall suddenly came to life for a moment. The speaker was interrupted before he even began. All that was audible was screams. The stillness that followed was almost peaceful. He could hear them coming thought. Sitting up after a moment and leaving the collar on his bed, he stretched a little. Reaching down to pick up his glasses, he pushed the bridge up over his nose and walked to the barred window of his cell. From some level above, he heard metal creaking and then sound of something... heavy… walking around. Instead of disappearing, the grin on his face widened. _Soon._ He just had to be patient. While he had been able to figure out a few details about where he was immediately, it would take some time before he properly figured out just where ‘here’ was.

A slight tapping sound caught his attention then, his gaze over his left shoulder nonchalant as the door to his cell was cracked far enough for him to peer into the hallway. “Took you long enough.” He quipped, turning his attention back to the window. Tomorrow was going to be pleasant. _No more birds!_ At least he hoped not to hear the same ones. In short order, he heard those same ‘footsteps’ and turned to see his extra ‘arms’ reaching for him. Now secured back into his harness and still grinning, he turned to the bars and completed his escape.

The next day all the newspapers read the same thing: “Doctor Otto Gunther Octavius Escapes From Prison!”

Unfortunately, the only person who might have been able to stop it was busy. Very busy. It had been a long day for the young man. Ever since four AM that morning, he had been running. A quick patrol had been interrupted by a phone call. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into Jameson, but the man had been sending him onto pointless task after pointless task of late. There was an issue with an ink order and of course only he was able to try to get in control with the shipping company. It didn’t matter that the man who owned the Bugle was in charge of the supply lines. Oh no, send an underling to do the dirty work. Then there was the little issue that had led to that early morning patrol. There were rumblings of the possibility that one of the Sinister Six was in the area again. Maybe. Or maybe not. It was possible that the stress was making him paranoid. During some of his recent patrols, he was finding letters scattered in seemingly random locations. The only indicators that they were for him were Rorschach blots in the shape of spiders on the envelopes. Once opened, the letters themselves were empty sheets of paper. Did the Six even work like this? There was a new art exhibit coming up soon that he was supposed to cover, then a red-carpet event. He’d also been dealing with issues with his fiancée too. The longer hours were putting pressure on his relationship.

Twice already, he had to cancel a dinner date and movie…in less than two weeks. _What is driving that man?_ Peddling on his bicycle as fast as he could safely, he was running one of the many menial errands that Jameson sent him on. Yesterday, it had been coffee. Today, it was breakfast bagels. Weren’t there assistants that were supposed to do that? Arriving at the bakery in record time, he took a moment to secure his bicycle and trailer before stepping through the doors. Once inside, he took a moment and inhaled deeply. Nothing at all like the smell of baked goods in the morning. Pulling a slip of paper from his pocket along with his phone, he placed the order for the office. Then, he ordered a raspberry filled donut for himself. While he waited, he checked his watch. Seven in the morning and he was picking up an order of bagels. Right before he was about to pay for the order, his phone buzzed. Hesitantly, he looked at the message he had received.

‘Don’t forget the coffee!’ Was there, along with descriptions of what sorts of coffee were needed. Frowning grimly, he looked to the employee behind the counter and asked if they also carried coffee. This was just wonderful. He felt like a pretentious twit asking if a bakery carried coffees with the options of ‘half-caf, double foam with two pumps of hazelnut’.

*

Holding the bag with boxed bagels in one hand and coffees balanced on a cardboard beverage holder in the other hand, the young man finally made it to the office…only to be met by Jameson himself. “Parker! Took you long enough! I hope you got the orders right today. In the boardroom. We have a meeting this morning.” Without preamble, the young man set the coffees down in the middle of the board room table along with the box of bagels. Before he left the room, JJ called him again. “I’d like to introduce you to our newest addition.” Turning to look then, his brows lifted to see a young strawberry blonde sitting across from Jameson. “This is Ashley Gardiner, and she’s a fantastic photographer. Better than you, Parker!” Blinking, Peter just waved to her.

“Hello Peter. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Sure! All false if they say how great he is at getting shots. Miss Gardiner here captured the images for today’s issue of the Bugle.” With that, he rolled up and tossed one of the papers to Peter. The young man easily snagged it out of the air. “Take an example from her. Maybe you can learn to take better pictures.” Anything that Peter was going to say was halted when he read the bold print at the top and saw the rubble of the prison estate. His mouth hung open. How had Doc Ock managed to escape this time? He prayed they had paid attention from the last time the man escaped, but apparently not.

“It was just a fortunate shot, sir.” Ashley protested. Jameson waved off her words though, as if he was batting at flies.

“Parker, you’re getting lazy and comfortable. Find me something good like this, or the next shots you take will be of bridal parties!” Opting to say nothing, Peter turned around and exited the board room. He didn’t have time for this! He had to find Ock! “Don’t forget the zoo exhibit today!” Turning to the boardroom again, he noticed that JJ had opened the door far enough to yell out Peter’s orders for the day and let the door shut.

_Parker, you’re lazy…_ Peter shook his head, struggling not to roll his eyes. As he headed to his desk to begin his day, he reached into his desk for his camera… but it wasn’t there. He’d made the mistake of leaving it there the afternoon before. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Made sense that the one day he made a mistake, his camera would go missing. He was going to need time to find a new camera, which could delay the job. Returning to the boardroom, he knocked lightly on the door and stepped in. “Sir, I’m not sure how it happened…” He began. “But my camera--”

“Parker, get a new camera.” Peter was about to respond to that when he noticed the very camera he was speaking of on the table in front of Miss Gardiner. “It’s simple. Why can’t you understand that?”

“Sir, that’s my--”

“Do you like the new camera Mr. Jameson gave me? It’s how I was able to get such good photos for today’s cover page!” Peter’s hazel eyes rounded in shock. Jameson tossed his head back and laughed. The older man had actually taken his camera and given it to someone else.

“Of course, he loves it! Parker…go get a new camera for the job. I expect all of the work done just as professionally as Miss Gardiner here.” J Jameson waved for Peter to leave. “Don’t give me any lazy disposable camera stuff either. I’ll notice!” So, it seemed…a trip to the store was going to be needed before the work was even done. Lifting his chin before he left the office, Peter quickly walked past his desk and headed down the stairs. Once outside, Peter hopped back on his bicycle and began peddling home. He was going to have to travel a lot further to get a decent camera on such short notice. That was even if he could find one. Never mind the fact the camera itself cost over a thousand dollars. And his bank account was looking a bit lean right now. While heading home, Peter had plenty of time to think. Was it really worth it, to stay at The Daily Bugle? What did he get out of working for Jameson aside from an increasing sense of worthlessness? There was also the knowledge that Doc Ock was out and could be anywhere…and the strange inkblot letters he was finding all over the city.

“What next?” He asked the open air after getting home. Dragging the bike in with him, he called out: “MJ, I’m home!” He knew that on Fridays, she was off work and could usually be found winding down in the back bedroom that they’d converted into a yoga studio. Instead of her usual greeting, he was met with silence. “MJ? Are you here?” Locking the front door, he stepped further into the house. Searching the rooms one by one, he finally stopped in the studio and saw a note sitting in the middle of the floor. Pinching himself, he sat down and began reading.

_Dear Tiger,_

_I hate writing this. I feel like I’m making a mistake. You never give up, so I shouldn’t either, right? We need space… I need space. Our relationship needs some space too. I’m so sorry, Tiger, but this has been some time coming._

_I’ll be staying with a friend while I try to figure out what kind of relationship we have. Can I call it that? What are the words to use when your boyfriend is never there? I need more than that, Peter. This isn’t fair to either one of us._

_I understood that we would have time apart because of our schedules, but I never expected this._

_I live with you, but I’ve barely seen you for months. You’re either at work or out running errands._

_I hope you understand, Peter. I love you. I’ll be mailing back your key and the ring soon._

_Mary Jane_

Unable to understand what he was reading at first, Peter read the letter again. A third time his eyes roved over the page. Then he understood what the sudden silence meant…why his home felt so empty. MJ had left him and wasn’t coming back. In the letter, she told him that she would be returning his ring and keys. _I suppose the wedding is off…_ He thought numbly. MJ was leaving him – no. MJ had left him with no warning. He was so confused and dazed. He had work to do and then this. How was he supposed to do anything? Scrambling to pull his phone out of his pocket, he unlocked it and quickly dialed MJ’s number. “The number you’ve dialed is not in service. Please check the number and dial again.” Staring at his phone for a moment, he sniffed. His jaw began to quiver, and he let the phone slip from his fingers and land on the yoga mat. Going back to their bedroom – his bedroom – he went into the closet and pulled out his spider suit. All of that struggle to make a living, who had it benefitted really? Not him, that’s for sure. As he donned his costume, he mulled over the photoshoot and his failed relationship. Going to his wallet he checked and grimaced before putting on his mask.

Disposable camera it was. Jameson wanted pictures from the zoo’s exhibit and he’d get them. _With a little help from a friend._

_…Elsewhere…_

Was this a good idea? Peeking up from the depths of the sewer from under a manhole cover, Otto carefully considered his options. He had to get to his lab…or whatever remained of it. To do that, he needed to travel undetected. _That pest, Spiderman will be by any moment._ Pushing the manhole lid aside, Otto nimbly slipped from the sewers and made his way as quietly as possible to a nearby clothing store. It was a simple smash and grab, right? That turned out to be exactly what happened. After smashing the glass of the front window, Otto grabbed what clothing he could before rushing back to the security of the sewers. The lid was still spinning in place as he scrambled down the ladder and into the tunnel under the city streets. _Yes…any moment now._

What he expected never came though. How was he supposed to know that Spiderman had a bothersome alter-ego that needed to do other tasks during the day and at night? These weren’t things that troubled the mind of Otto. What was important was that now he had escaped from prison, he had a second goal. He had to get back to his lab. If he could at least get close enough, the machinery he’d hidden might help him. Ducking through a tunnel to the right, he peered around the corner seemingly every turn. This pattern was to last the remainder of the night.

*

Showing up the next day at the Daily Bugle, Peter Parker walked to Jameson’s office with the photographs in a large manilla envelope. It was exactly what his boss wanted, along with plenty of photographs of Spiderman visiting with the animals in the exhibit. To date, no one was sure how Peter Parker was always able to be right where he needed to in order to get the photographs. They had turned out very well too. Judging by the dark circles around Peter’s eyes, he had been up late developing the film himself. To hide that, he’d worn dark shades – they hadn’t been fully effective. J Jameson’s brows rose sharply at the photographs. Every snap had been perfectly executed. His bushy brows bunched together at the images of Spiderman posing with the animals. “…Not bad, Parker. Now if--”

Not waiting for Jameson to say anything else, Peter turned around and started walking out of the building. JJ started calling him back to the office, but completely out of character even for himself – Peter ignored his calls. He had more important things to do. For one… _Why and how is Doc out?_ Where was the man? For a megalomaniac, the insane genius had been quiet. Too much so for Peter’s liking. Squinting as he walked to his bike, Peter remembered the other reason he was wearing shades. It was far too bright outside today. The ride home was filled with less turmoil, but the solitude at home felt like it was a physical being – threatening to strangle him were he to risk letting down his guard. Also out of character for him, he had left his phone at home. When he clambered back into the house, he noticed he had two missed calls. One was from an unknown caller. The other… _MJ…_ Feasibly, he could return the call. They could settle their problems over the phone. There was only one problem. Mary Jane had been pretty clear in her letter. Any chance he though could have existed between them was gone when his ring and key showed up in the mail that morning. First Class Express. Wonderful.

“You’re doing yourself a favor….” He spoke to the empty air. “Saving some frequent flier miles…” Bills had also come that morning with the mail. Looking at the bill for his cellphone, he shook his head and tossed it aside for later. Picking up his phone, he stared at the darkened screen. Maybe it was time for a change. Walking to the bathroom, he stared at the day-old stubble on his face. Moving over to his computer, he logged on and began doing a search. Three hours later, he idly stumbled onto a report about a break-in at a clothing store the previous night. Instead of investigating further, because the place was in his normal patrol, he overlooked the article. He was looking at relator sites. Was there a place he could stay at temporarily while he tried to get himself together? His phone rang then and glancing at it, he saw his ex-fiancé’s face right there on the screen. He immediately rejected the call, and turned his attention to the computer screen. The sky grew darker outside slowly at first as the time ticked away.

_Click.Click. Nothing._ He wasn’t even sure why he was on the verge of making a major decision and allowing his emotions to guide him. Everything in him reminded him that he had no reason to stay anymore. Did the city even need him? Sure, the Doc was out… but to be honest the man hadn’t made a peep since the escape. What was a spider to do in this case? He couldn’t just sniff out where the mad genius was hiding. His senses only tingled when he was near danger. He could return to where the lab was. It was the only place that he could think of that Otto would run to. All of his trinkets and toys were there. _Catch Doc, get him back behind bars. Then…what?_ The curious envelopes were still piling up too and more than a few people were beginning to get angry with him, assuming that Spiderman was to blame for the envelopes littering the city streets now.

Could it have been a ploy from the Doc? If so, it was awfully immature of him. Someone was trying to use psychology on Peter to make him surrender before he needed to. Was any of that even needed? Rising from his seat, he was hunched over just a little as his aching muscles protested him sitting for so long in one position. His phone had rung twice more…both from Mary Jane and J Jameson. What his boss wanted with him on a Saturday was anyone’s guess. Coming to a decision, he grabbed a duffel bag from the top shelf of his closet and collected all of his necessary gear, extra web cartridges and some extra clothes. Going around the house, he turned off all of the lights. Looking at his cellphone…he dropped it in the trashcan on the way out the door.

Zipping up the hooded jacket he was wearing, he glanced behind himself at the house and walked away. Was this a bad idea? Likely, because other people had his number. Then again, he didn’t want to be found, so what better way really? He carefully headed out of the city, picking up some cash and food along the way. Grimacing once at the ATM…he noticed his payment from Jameson hadn’t made it to the bank at all. _What’s the point of it all?_ Shaking his head, he pulled the hood further down over his face and shouldered his duffel bag. Leaving the city like this, under the cover of night was the exact opposite of what he should be doing. He could have easily made this trip in a few minutes time as Spiderman…and also amassed a lot of attention. His shoulders drooped as he walked. There were risks with whatever he decided to do, whether he liked it or not.

*

What had started off as distant thunder turned into a full force storm outside. His clothing was sodden from the rain, sneakers slipping just a little in the mud. He’d found an unconventional footpath that led him to Montclair. People he had encountered during his walk had made a wide berth for him. Grimly, he greeted them regardless…only to be met with looks of suspicion. What was he to expect really? He was out there, in a wet hooded jacket, muddied sneakers and a soggy duffle bag plastered to his back. What was he doing really? Wandering off his path and finding a bridge underpass, he sat there and opened one of his bags. He shrugged off his duffel bag and got ready to eat a bit more comfortably. Pulling out a can of Vienna sausages, he drained the liquid off and began eating. His features scrunched up immediately. Not the tastiest fare, but it would have to do. Now that he was seated, he had more time to think. He hadn’t planned out what he was doing at all. Peter Parker wasn’t known for having every minute detail planned, but he was also never known to take unneeded risks. _MJ… I miss you._ He was uncertain what had led to this abrupt decision he was making. Maybe it was because of how suddenly she’d left. He still had unresolved feelings he was trying to cope with before all this. “Long night…” He muttered, pressing his back to the wall. Out the corner of his eye, he saw a hand reach out and grab his duffel bag’s strap. “Hey!”

“Sorry man,” The unapologetic would-be thief said as he ran. “Snooze, you lose!” Peter stared up at the section of tunnel the man had run down before standing up. He gulped down the last of the sausages, dropped the can, and took off in a sprint after the thief. His left hand was tightly gripping his grocery bags. This was his fault. If he hadn’t been out here, he couldn’t have gotten robbed. He saw the man glance at him and scramble to the left. Both of them heard the semi as it rumbled down the road towards their location in the tunnel. The thief managed to cross the road before the semi separated them. Instead of giving up, Peter looked around and quickly scaled the wall of the tunnel. The section the thief was heading to had nearly no light, but it didn’t matter. Speeding up and quieting his descent, Peter nimbly came down on the other side of the tunnel. The man had stopped after a few minutes to catch his breath and was slowly backing toward the wall to avoid any light. Once he was rested, he was going to see what he could sell in the bag. “Stupid tourist.” He muttered, smiling. His shirt was a bit grimy and sweaty, but the rest of him was clean. He’d just gotten out of the shelter and was trying to find a spot to bed for the night.

His right hand scratched at the graying stubble on his face. When he’d been much younger, he’d had a full head of black hair…but that had been mostly lost to premature thinning. Light brown eyes lit up at his fortune tonight. He never stayed in one place for long. It was a shame really, that the foolish tourist had left his items so easily in reach. _It’ll teach him for next time._ Nodding resolutely to himself and trying to believe that he’d really done a good deed instead of taking from someone else to further himself, he sat down against the shadows of the tunnel and began unzipping the bag. He hoped it was worth it. Otherwise, he had wasted his time. _Maybe he had money in here._ Money equaled food for him and maybe he could even get a hotel for a night with a hot shower.

“Has anyone ever told you to keep your hands to yourself?” Spooked then, the man lifted his head up and looked left and right. Straining his eyes to stare into the gloom, he couldn’t see anybody. No one was there. Letting out a soft bark of laughter, he shook his head. Imagining things again. There was no one else here, at least as far as he knew. Most people for their own safety avoided the shadowed sections of these tunnels. “Funny? I wasn’t trying to make a joke.” Feeling a tap on his shoulder then, he looked up and gasped. The young man staring at him had absolutely no expression on his face. His eyes though… he wasn’t sure what emotion he was reading in them, but things were not looking good for him. Imagining a knife was with the young man as well, he dropped the duffel and backed away from it as quickly as his body could manage.

“Hey, hey! Sorry. Didn’t realize it was yours.” He stood up slowly, holding up his hands. He could try diplomacy. One thing he was known for was talking himself out of situations. He tried to not think of the times over the years he had failed. He was living on the streets because he couldn’t convince his wife to stay with him, then turned to alcohol and couldn’t keep his job. Losing his home had helped him sober up…but without the right connections and resources, he was going to be stuck here for a while.

“Really?” Peter stared at the man, noticing everything. He saw how the man’s hands were shaking – could hear the tremor in his voice and noticed how the man was swallowing convulsively. “I’m pretty sure you knew this belonged to me.” Stepping closer to the man, Peter paused to grab his bag. “What did you think you were going to do with this?” Peter’s eyes narrowed. He was already having a bad day and now had to deal with some homeless drug addict. It was callous of him to assume the man had an issue with addiction, but how else could he explain the stealing? When the man didn’t respond, Peter scoffed. “Maybe I should let the cops know about this little place you have here.” Now that he was able to see clearer, he was able to make out minute details, like stray blanket and newspapers. He was certain that not too many people would be bold enough to run into the tunnels for any reason, especially not at night. His words had the desired effect.

“No cops! Please!” He couldn’t go back to jail. It didn’t matter if he was warm. He’d rather be wet and cold outside than be stuck behind bars. With the men in blue mocking him for his smell and appearance. He took pride in the fact that he was in essence a drifter but able to keep himself clean. He just had a few problems when it came to getting money. “You have your stuff, just go!” Turning away from Peter, the man kept his shaking hands up. If he was going to meet his death, he didn’t want to see any of it coming. After a long moment, not hearing anything behind him, he turned around and was almost paralyzed with fear to see no one there. _Where did he go?!_ It wasn’t as if the young made had vanished into thin air. Or had he? Once he could calm down his racing heart, the older man sat down – belatedly noticing a few shiny objects on the ground. One was a pop-can of tuna and the other was a sleeve of crackers. “D-Did he…” Without another thought, he was scrambling to grab the items. He hugged them to his chest. He looked around, not able to see any indication still of the young man. “T-Thank you…” He said to the open air. He proceeded to tear into the food then. Hunger was the only thing that was constant in his life.

Unseen, Peter quietly continued to travel away along the shadows of the tunnel. He had a lot to think about.

He was happy that he hadn’t responded with the violence to the theft. He wondered about the man’s story though. That wasn’t to be his sole focus anymore, at least not for now. He couldn’t very well go back to where he’d been either. It wasn’t possible now. Tension made him tighten his jaw; he felt himself physically and mentally balk at the idea of turning back now. All that was ahead of him was what he needed to think about. _I’m glad he’s happy._ He thought about him as he crawled out of the tunnel and stood on top of it, walking towards the road. No going back now. _No one needs me anyway._ MJ had only been gone for a few days, though! Was this the way he should have handled things? Or was her leaving the final nail in the coffin? _Alley-oop!_ He smoothly tossed himself onto a section of the road and hurried to the other side to walk in the wet grass.

_Elsewhere_

Strange. It had been over a week now since she’d heard from him. The redhead stared at the black screen of her phone and dialed his number again. After she’d left the house, she’d not hesitated to follow up on her promise to mail back her ring and key. It had been an impulsive move, one that she’d hope would open his eyes to the problems in their relationship. They were engaged and for months, all that she’d seen of him was his back as he slept at night and glimpses of him as he darted out the door for work in the morning. Instead of voicing her frustrations to her fiancée, she had opted to stay silent and wait. What she expected from Peter wasn’t certain. She knew that her work had afforded her a standard that she’d gotten used to. Was he working so hard because he wanted to, or did he want to get away from her? The next day, she woke up and realized the mistake she’d made. At the time, she’d felt self-righteous in what she was doing. After all, the problems in their relationship were more than a few missed dates, right? Or was she just being inconsiderate?

The silence from him was strange though. She’d gone back to the house twice in the past week. The lights were off, and it seemed like he was at work. This week however, she’d received a call from J Jameson, asking her where Peter was. In fact, her phone was ringing again. Picking up, heart in her throat, she spoke softly. “Yes?”

“Yes. Have you heard anything from him yet, Miss Watson?” She looked at her dark screen. “No…” _I need to contact the police. What if something happened to him?_ Was she so negligent that she hadn’t noticed his absence? Peter was perfectly capable of taking care of himself…wasn’t he? “I…” _I need to make this right with him._ “I need to go.” Without waiting for a response, Mary Jane hung up the phone. Pulling on her jacket and grabbing her purse and keys, she hurried out the front door of her friend’s apartment. When she had originally come there, her friend had assured her that she could stay as long as she needed to figure out what she was going to do. Now though, Mary Jane was realizing that what she really needed was just to go back to her fiancée – ex fiancée – and discuss their problems. It wasn’t right that they weren’t talking. So many scenarios played through her head as she headed to the house. Had he moved on? Quit his job?

Shaking her head, she dismissed those thoughts. That wasn’t like Peter at all. However, Jameson had said that Peter hadn’t shown up for work all week. That wasn’t like her Tiger. Biting her bottom lip, she finally reached the house and was blown away at the sight of yellow tape everywhere. The front door was sitting wide open with no indication of Peter anywhere. Not thinking, she ran towards the house, only to be restrained by a police office. The man was older, possibly in his late forties, but was still active. His blond hair was close cropped, his gray gaze even and steady.

“Hold it, ma’am! No one can come in.” He explained, holding her arms. She struggled to control her breathing, tears streaming down her cheeks. She noticed the overflowing amounts of mail spilling out of his box. Why hadn’t Peter gotten his mail?

“What…” She choked a bit and swallowed, her throat feeling tight. “What happened?” The officer stared at her. “Where’s Peter?” His eyes lit up.

“You know who owns this house?” She nodded, green eyes glossy from tears.

Mary Jane spoke without thinking. “His name is Peter Parker. He’s my fiancée and works for the Bugle.” The officer started a bit, recognizing the name. He sighed. It was always hard dealing with family members. To be frank, they were going to have to open up a Missing Person’s case. The home had very few clues if any that explained where he’d gone.

“We’re not exactly sure. A neighbor called for a wellness check. She said she hadn’t seen him in several days and the mail was piling up. We tracked down the postal worker who normally does the route. He told us he hadn’t heard a word, and they weren’t given a forwarding address.” The officer looked on as Mary Jane’s face twisted in distress, and he had to restrain her again when she tried to bolt past him to the house. “Miss, didn’t you know?” Uncomprehending eyes stared back wildly at him. “You’re his fiancée, didn’t you know?” His words, spoken with such compassion sent a jolt through her.

“He hasn’t been picking up his phone.” Working on a hunch, the officer gave her shoulders a light squeeze.

“One moment, miss. Now, you’re not going to run if I let you go, will you?” Mary Jane’s shoulders drooped but she nodded in agreement. The officer ducked into his cruiser and brought out a neatly bagged mobile phone that she recognized immediately. “We already dusted it for prints. We were just finishing charging it to search through it.”

With shaking hands, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number that she knew by heart. Peter’s cellphone’s screen lit up almost immediately, and she nearly dropped her phone. Tears welled up in her eyes. The officer seemed uncomfortable, then. Just what was the nature of their relationship? He’d seen the crumpled-up letter in the house, possibly from this young woman. There were plenty of photographs in the house of the two of them. The office had recognized her almost immediately, but wanted to hear her side. Now it seemed they had more questions than answers.

“We also recovered a few items from the house. We were going to the precinct after securing the house to go over everything. Would you like to go with us, miss?” Numbly, Mary Jane nodded. The officer kindly escorted her to his cruiser, keeping a firm grip on her arm as she was more than a little unsteady on her feet. Just what was going on with the two of them? “You ready to roll, Martin?” He asked a brown-haired young officer, who was securing the front door of the house. Turning to him, the office gave him a thumbs up, his brown eyes twinkling. “Miss, Officer Hawkes, and I will take you back with us, alright?” Mary Jane nodded and buckled herself into her seat as the two police officers headed to the station with her.

_Months Later_

Bringing down the splitting maul felt satisfying. So did the crunch and crack of the wood splitting. A faint hiss followed the action shortly afterwards. Sweat had gotten right in his eyes and it burned so much. Wiping his face with the back of his arm seemed to do the trick enough that he could see to split wood evenly. “Good job, Mister Hammer.” A soft, feminine voice spoke up. It belonged to a fairly young woman with light brown hair and brown eyes. Today, she had on a long gray dress instead of blue the previous day. Her hair was done up in a rather messy bun today. It had taken a little bit of time for him to respond to the name he’d given himself. Edgar Hammer. How fitting that now he was using manual labor to keep himself fed. “You can come on back when you’re done with that stack and take a load off. Caleb wants to speak with you when you’re done out here.” Grinning and nodding eagerly, Peter turned back to his work with renewed vigor. The Knott family had been more than welcome to him since he’d stumbled down their road so long ago. He’d traveled so far and wandered up country road 46. Eventually, he realized he was in a Dutch Settlement. Now, he lived in the woods just off Call Road.

It had been a strange arrangement at first. In exchange for his work, he was given some food and basic supplies. Peter had also unofficially become a live-in security system. He’d run off dogs and other wild animals that were trying to kill the animals the family relied on for food. He’d refused the offer for housing though, despite their insistence. What he had accepted from the husband was a handsewn leather pouch. He’d used it to store the money he’d earned from the family. The Knott family wasn’t the only one that he worked for in the area…however, he lingered around their place the longest. No one knew where he stored his meager belongings in the woods and that was perfectly fine for him. It was safer for him if he had to take a sudden leave of absence.

Gone too were most of the vestiges from the life he’d had before. He had exchanged his shoes for bare feet, which made everything easier for him to do. Jeans had been replaced with homespun pants and suspenders. He’d also grown quite an impressive beard if he were to say so. It wasn’t that long, but enough hair had grown on his face that he wasn’t readily as recognizable as the same smooth baby-faced man. That was all that mattered. Whistling a jaunty tune, he continued to work at the pile of wood until he had completed all of it. When he glanced up, the sun had moved in the sky. He jerked just a little. How long had he been out here? Shrugging and feeling the aching in his muscles, he finally headed to the back of the house and lightly knocked on the door. Mr. Caleb Knott opened the door and looked Peter up and down. His blue eyes lacked much humor today. “Could have sworn you would have come in two hours ago.” In response, Peter merely shrugged. His bare arms and shoulders flexed a little at the motion. If anything, the manual labor had helped him put more muscle onto his wiry frame. Running fingers through his light brown hair, Caleb shook his head and grabbed a shirt from just inside the house and tossed it to Peter. “Go hose off and come back. It’s not polite for you to be around the Missus. with no shirt on.”

_Forgot that part again._ Peter thought as he jogged over to where the water hose was located. Placing the shirt a safe distance away, he turned on the water. Hosing himself off was pretty important before he went back in the house. He didn’t want to stink. The hose was only going to risk the sweat off him, but it was a welcome reprieve. When he returned to bed down for the night, he’d examine his hands to see if he had developed any more blisters. It’d be a shame if he did…meant he would have to go back to the market way down the road for some ointment. When he had efficiently sprayed himself until he was dripping, he donned the shirt over his wet body and headed back to the house. This time, Caleb tossed him a fluffy towel and let him in.

“How’s the stack today, Edgar?” Peter smiled and pointed in the direction he’d come from.

“Got all of it done today, Mister Knott.” Off the man’s perturbed expression, Peter straightened. “Is…everything alright, Mister Knott?” Those steady blue eyes focused on him a moment before the man turned to his wife. Planting a faint kiss on her cheek, he turned back to Peter.

“My wife told you that we needed to speak.” Peter nodded. “I need a hand to help me take some supplies to the store tonight.” Peter had no problem with that. In fact, he needed to buy something from the store for himself.

_Likely ointment…_ He thought ruefully. Peter needed a few other toiletries too. Like a new toothbrush.

“I hope you haven’t worked yourself too hard today Mister Hammer. The supplies are heavy.” Instead of disagreeing, Peter cleared his throat, trying to figure out how to respond. “We’ll discuss more after dinner. Justine has fixed a wonderful dinner for us.” Peter took a seat at the table across from Caleb. The Knotts ate very well and Peter had grown accustomed to the differences from what he’d eaten growing up. ‘Fast Food’ simply did not exist in this area. Or maybe it had, and he hadn’t seen it. Misses Knott had prepared an entire chicken, fresh peas and corn. There was cabbage noodle casserole on the table and homemade cornbread. She’d even prepared apple fritters for dessert. She piled both of the men’s plates up before serving herself. The couple prayed over their meal, and as they tucked into the food, Peter wondered what made his employer so jumpy about a supply run. It wasn’t as if Peter hadn’t done the work for the man before.

The supplies ended up being several prepared sacks full of animal feed. Still, as Peter loaded the sacks into the wagon, he couldn’t help but notice the grim expression on Caleb’s face. “You feeling well tonight, sir?” Peter asked softly. Caleb jumped violently in response; his lips tensed into a thin line. After a few tense minutes of silence where neither man spoke, Peter decided not to ask again. Both of them sat in front of the wagon. With a light flick of the reigns, Caleb spurred his horse into action. The ride was quiet, uncomfortably so for Peter. For one, Caleb had decided that it would be best that they leave after sundown. For another, the ride was going to take them the better part of an hour if not longer to make the trip there. They had at least two hundred pounds in the wagon and Peter was uncertain about how well the horse was going to handle the load. So far, things were going well, but the store they were heading to turned out to be five miles away. Peter had found that out after inquiring as to which direction they were headed.

Thankfully, they arrived at Jonas’ shop with the wagon in one piece and the horse still alive. The old man that owned the shop moved with the spring of a man half his age and tried to assist them as they unloaded the animal feed. While he was relaxing on a bench outside the store, Peter noticed what looked like a newspaper page on the ground near the gravely road they’d traveled down to get there. Surprised, he got up and picked up the paper. It was from a newspaper. However, it appeared to only be the front page. So strange… The newspapers around here mentioned the weather and regular events in town. There were no pictures either. However, after reading the front of the page, he flipped to the inside and felt his blood run cold. Right on the page was a picture of Otto at a conference, explaining how his innovation in technology would soon make everything in New York much safer. Peter couldn’t believe it. How had the paper gotten here? Better yet, what was happening back home?

_Funny… I hadn’t thought of home in a long time…_ He started wondering other things, such as if MJ was safe. _Doc Ock…how could I forget about him?_ Just like that, Peter realized that he needed to leave. But…Glancing at the store, he noticed that Caleb was taking longer than he should have on the deal. He was about to reach for the handle to the store when he felt a telltale tingling in his head. _What is happening?!_ Moments later, the sound of a shotgun was heard in the back of the store. Pulling the door open then and hurrying to the back, Peter came on the sight of Caleb’s back as the man shakily held on to a shotgun. Jonas was lying just out of his range of view. His footsteps caught Caleb’s attention and the man swung around with the shotgun aimed at him. “Whoa, whoa wait! What are you doing?!”

“You don’t understand! None of you would listen!” Caleb argued at Peter, his weapon waving back and forth in the air. “No one wants to listen to what’s happening around here! It’s madness!” Then, Peter turned in to the sound of a radio quietly playing in a corner of the store. His eyes narrowed.

_What is---_

“No one wanted to listen! Not Albrecht and certainly not Jonas! He was corrupted by what he called ‘the future’. Well, no more of that.” Caleb calmed for a moment before narrowing his sights on Peter. “I’ll have to inform my wife that we had a little accident on the road.” Alarm bells were going off in Peter’s head before the man readied his aim, and the younger man avoided the bullet. Barreling out the front door of the store, he ran around the back of it and started to climb. Thankfully, there were tall trees back there that he could use to get out of there. The first leap felt like he was coming home. Thankfully, he had paid attention as they headed to the shop and knew how to get back to the Knott Homestead. What was he going to say to Missus Knott though? He knew the young woman had gotten used to his presence. Both of them had, or at least he thought they had.

_Let’s not think about that Parker. More move, less speak._ Thankfully, he made it back to the house in record time. It was good that he’d refused the offer for lodging because it made leaving a lot easier. Heading to the woods where he kept his supplies, he collected everything and looked at the home – lit at night by homemade candles – and headed back on the road. If he used his web shooters, he’d make it home a lot faster. He’d unconsciously moved to shoot webbing at Caleb back at the shop before remembering that all of his equipment wasn’t there. Pulling his mask out of his duffel bag, he lowered his head. _With great strength comes great responsibility…_ Did he ever need that strength now… Donning his costume, he immediately noticed that some changes would have to be made. The outfit was already skin-tight, but he’d put on more than fifteen pounds worth of muscle while he’d been there. He could hear the fabric threatening to rip as he tugged everything into place. Then, with his duffel bag at the ready, he reached a point where he could use his webs effectively.

Then it was just a matter of getting off the ground. His first swing had felt exhilarating as he noticed that he was moving with a lot more speed than he remembered.

Was this going to be worth it? Definitely. Doc Ock had to be stopped. It was his fault things had gotten so bad of late too.

_I’m coming home._ His lips turned up at the corners. _Wherever that proves to be. I’m finally coming home._

\---

AN: So, what did you think? I love constructive criticism. Until next time! – J. Lyst


	2. You Got It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Forty per night.” She interrupted, turning to an open book on the desk – immediately ignoring Peter’s next words if he spoke any. Her thick accent was interesting, but Peter wasn’t sure where it came from. “First two nights payment cash only.” Sighing, Peter reached into his bag to get the money. He tried to pretend that he didn’t notice how the old woman was trying to see exactly where he’d reached into the bag. “Name?” She asked. 
> 
> “Hammer. Edgar Hammer.” There was a punchline to be had somewhere, but he couldn’t seem to find it.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Marvel, and certainly not any millimeter of the Spiderverse. However, if I were to acquire even a tiny bit in the stock, it would be wonderful – wouldn’t it? Between chapters, I severely strained my right wrist. It’s long-known now by those closest to me that extensive, long periods of repetitive action, such as typing can lead to this. In the past, I participated in NanoWrimo (3 years in a row –back-to-back) in the middle of the holiday season when my hands were needed at work. Lots of counting, repetitive motion only to rush home and plunge into another 1700-2000 words daily. I just this week obtained an ergonomic keyboard.

The first chapter of “Navigating The Curve” took less than 24 hours to create…and over two hours to edit to the best of my ability. This one took a bit longer.

I hope you enjoy!

Navigating The Curve

By Juliette Lyst

  1. You Got It All



Time marches for all. That’s a painful reality for many. Some enjoy the time they have, taking every day one at a time. The one-day-at-a-time crowd generally are more laid back and easy going. It’s not always the case, but seems to be the general consensus. There are the ‘planners’ who work daily towards an overarching goal that will be completed at some time in the future. The range of these types of planners could be vast. Some look to three months, four… some look ahead for years. Those plans, like all things, might never reach fruition. Those with the world at their feet could so easily topple off the pedestals they’ve elevated themselves on. What recourse would someone like that have? If they were foul to others, stepping on them on the way to the top…just how would those same ones treat them as they came back down? There was an old saying, nearly as old as time… “Let the one who thinks he is standing beware that he does not fall.” The saying could be seen in a variety of ways depending on the person. However, when it comes to the hearts of men… What will some decide to do with their days?

Otto wasn’t certain which category he fit under anymore. At one point, he reached out and struck without any goal. His blows never landed nearly as hard as he hoped, because his ultimate goal was the betterment of himself in the _eyes_ of others. Instead of trying to just be better, he wanted to be the best. The man was a genius, no doubt, but he forgot to acknowledge that no matter how hard and how long he worked – there was always someone else out there who was better. He was just beginning to stretch towards the realization of his limitations. Once safely inside the remains of his lab, he had walked among the destroyed machinery – heart aching. His creations were extensions of his own self…in a way, they could be called his best friends. The small boy who had started creating “trinkets” to play with when his own father didn’t want to recognize him – he had only grown bigger with the brain to make bigger trinkets. His work was _good_ , with capabilities only limited by his imagination.

Where had things gone so wrong? Were he to think about it, ever since he acquired his extra arms – he had become a different person. Gone was the idealistic young man who dreamed of making the world a better place for all. Instead, the last few years had consisted of Otto trying to make the world change to fit _him_. Was it truly fair though? Was his desire even within his grasp? At this point, even if he were to try to turn around, it would be difficult for anyone to truly trust him. His face was readily recognizable, which was why he’d needed to make the trip under the shadow of night. Most of his devices were ruined, but he could always go back and rebuild. _I’ll show them._ He thought, his gaze a bit wild and unfocussed. _They’ll learn why its never a good idea to cross me!_ His own inner reflections would be ignored, just as they were over the years. When his conscience pricked him over his own deeds, he turned to stabbing it in turn. His moments of reflection of the morals behind his decisions were few and far between.

Hissing in pain then, he doubled over near the wall that led to the small, cramped bathroom located in one of the few parts of his lab not smashed to pieces. Sinking to the ground on his knees, he struggled for air. Instead of what he wished, he had to deal with not only the sound of his own wheezing, but a mere trickle of air that his body required to function. _What is this?_ Since he’d been in prison, he had never felt such pain. It was excruciating, as if a vice was wrapped around his entire chest and was squeezing him. The tightness in his chest was unbearable, and he began to pray for the unmoving darkness of unconsciousness to save him from the pain. The vice eased temporarily, and Otto sucked into a much-needed breath – only to let it out in an agonizing scream as grip returned. His heartbeat was becoming erratic, sweat popping up on his forehead. A dull ache formed under his jaw on the right side with pain beginning to run down his left arm and he shivered.

_I’m…I’m…._ He struggled to string two sentences together in his head, the oxygen deprivation beginning to overcome him. _My heart…_ Indeed, the muscle was pounding away irregularly. Ironically, it wasn’t entirely his intelligence that powered him, but in fact a small organ that weighed at most twelve ounces. If _that_ was giving up on him now… He almost wanted to be able to hold his breath as the very vital organ seemed to twist inside his chest. Thankfully, he sunk into merciful unconsciousness.

*

When the scientist woke up, several hours had passed. At least as far as he could tell. Sunlight was peeking in through a hole in the ceiling. _Am I dead?_ It was an honest question. The way he had felt before everything had grown dark, he believed he would never awaken again. And yet… he did. Everything hurt, his entire body was twisted in an uncomfortable position on the floor. Dried saliva was both on his mouth and the floor. Had he experienced a seizure as well? Forcing himself to stand was difficult, his muscles spasming unpredictably. Otto wasn’t certain which was worse…the ache in his chest or the pains in the rest of his muscles. Leaning against the wall for support, he made his way to the bathroom. Not bothering to turn on the lights – what would be the use without running electricity – he grabbed the sink and struggled into a stranding position. He looked in the mirror, a weak and haggard face staring back at him.

_Just what happened to me?_ There was only one way for him to check to be sure… but how was he going to be able to get to a hospital to check on himself? Had his machines worked at peak efficiency, it wouldn’t have been hard to check. A hospital could test for cardiac enzymes… If he’d experienced a heart attack, he needed to find out why. He needed medication to hold off another heart attack, to save his life. Then he needed to find out what caused it. Was his shortness of breath due to his heart or did that trigger it? He watched himself as his face crumpled up, genuine fear taking hold. There were risks to exposing himself so soon. He wasn’t supposed to be out of prison. Had he still been inside though, he doubted any of the hospital staff would have had any modicum of compassion for him. _I’ll end up back in there…_ gradually, his features hardened again. No… Maintaining his distance for now would likely be best – but what if he had another episode? There was no way for him to exact revenge…from six feet under.

_I don’t like this…_ There was a possibility that he hadn’t wanted to think about. He had a few ‘favours’ that he could call in. More than a few in fact. Turning on the faucet, he was pleasantly surprised the water still ran. Grabbing handfuls of it, he splashed his face a few times. Exhaling heavily, he straightened up and adjusted his glasses. Leaving the bathroom, he pulled on the brimmed fedora he’d dropped earlier and put it back on. Ensuring that the long coat he wore securely hid his ‘extra’ arms, he began to carefully pick his way out of the ruined lab. Was it a good idea to move during the daytime? He wasn’t sure. Eyes narrowed, Otto headed for the nearest manhole cover that he saw, ducking down to appear smaller.

*

The meeting wasn’t going well. Mossy-green eyes struggled to focus both on the notepad being scribbled onto and the commanding presence of J Jameson. Ashley Gardiner lightly chewed on her bottom lip as she struggled to keep up with JJ’s rapid-fire speech. To say that the man had been upset over the sudden disappearance of Peter Parker was an understatement. No matter how much the older man had tried to claim otherwise, the quality of work at the Bugle had declined significantly. The young man seemed to be the only one who was able to capture photographs of the elusive Spiderman. _Harder to find now…_ Not only were sightings of Spiderman now rare… they were nonexistent. The headlines the last few weeks detailed a subtle uptick in violence. In fact, today’s cover was by Ashley herself. The photographs showed damaged cars and buildings burning as firefighters raced to put out the blaze. _“BREAKING: NEW YORK ON FIRE! WHERE IS THE MIGHTLY SPIDERMAN? THREE WEEKS, NO SPIDERMAN!”_ Jonas had suggested the cheesy title, in a bid to lure out the webslinger.

He had compared it to fishing. If you put out the right bait, eventually you’d get a bite. Pursing her lips, and tapping her pen tip against the notepad as Jameson called for an end to the meeting, she remained seated as everyone else filed out of the boardroom. Jameson folded his arms, nodding as every employee dutifully headed out the door. Once it was only him and Ashley, he let out a pained groan and ran both hands through his graying black hair. “Miss Gardiner, what are we doing?” Surprised, the young woman sat up straighter in her seat.

“Sir?” She wasn’t at all sure what he wanted to hear. The most that she could prove to be was a sounding board. The older man had at first been frustrated when Peter hadn’t responded to his calls. The frustration gave way to anger, then concern when he’d heard back from Parker’s fiancée. They had Peter Parker listed as a Mission Person. Even now, his picture was featured on the inside of the Daily Bugle. They were beginning to give up hope though, and steam. Just how much went into a small section of a paper? He wanted to put other material there, but with Peter’s absence, he wasn’t certain what it should be.

“When is it the right time to give up, Miss Gardiner?” Jameson turned to her, wrinkles of worry around his blue eyes. Jameson had seemed to age another ten years overnight. He felt responsible for keeping the notice in the paper. He still remembered hearing Mary Jane crying into the phone – begging him for help. At first, the request hadn’t seemed so bad…but this had been going on for weeks now. “We have other stories to run.” In fact, the ‘lackluster’ jobs that he’d sent Parker on had to be covered by other photographers, and their work was nowhere near as good as Parker’s. Ashley spread out her hands helplessly. What did he expect her to say?

“It’s not my place to say, sir.” Thinking she needed to elaborate, she added, “It’s your company. I have no say in the paper.” Jameson’s normally animated features lost all expression. His head bobbed as if he had made a decision. Regret flickered over his face before he responded.

“You can return to your desk, Miss Gardiner. Tomorrow, we’ll putting up a three-page spread on the ‘Ink-Blot’ thefts and the destruction in the city. Scratch anymore posts about Parker. If he wants to be found, he’ll be found.” Capping her pen, Ashley stood and walked around the long boardroom table to leave the room. In the time since Spiderman and Parker disappeared, whoever was leaving letters with ink splotches on them had turned to petty theft. He knew there was a divide over who was responsible. Because the blotches were all variations of spiders, some were beginning to wonder what Spiderman’s connection to them was. Suddenly Jameson’s eyes lit up. “Miss Gardiner…” Hearing his words, Ashley paused, turning to him. “See if you can stretch this out into a questions and answers session with city residents. Do they think Spiderman is behind the thefts?” She looked a little confused. “If he is, it would explain why he’s not helping the city now. He’s never been so quiet, not since he started swinging from the skyscrapers.”

“Understood.” As Ashley headed to her desk, she felt her phone buzzing in her purse. Pulling it out of her purse discretely when she was seated, she unlocked her phone and stared at the message she’d received. _‘Update._ ’ It asked. The image for this contact was that of a robotic, glowing red eye. _‘Don’t worry, sir.’_ She typed quietly in reply after reading the single word message. _‘Things are looking up now. I’ll check in soon!’_ Done, she sent the message and slipped her phone back into her purse. She supposed she should feel guilt, but people like her never felt guilty. Guilt was a sad flaw that people had, and one she was grateful to avoid in full.

_Present Day_

While his travel had begun during the night time, the sun was rising and he needed to stop. Peter had moved from using his web shooters to just traveling by crawling around on buildings. There was no guarantee that he would be able to replace the webbing once he exhausted the cartriges. He had plenty of materials back at his house. Wincing then, he wondered what had come of his home. _Everything is cut off likely._ He really should have thought ahead before embarking on his ‘trip’. Selling his house would have seemed so final though, especially when he was dealing with a broken heart. It had been months, but to him it might has well have been only days. _The house…_ His brows furrowed in resolution. He’d have to pass by the house and figure out if any of his materials were still there. Clambering down to an area full of trees, he scaled one of them and quickly changed into the clothing he’d worn when he worked for the Knott family. He didn’t mind much being shirtless and barefoot walking down the sidewalk. Locating a small shop outside of Jersey, he traded in his worn-out duffel bag for a newer one with more of a rustic look to it. The lady in the store seemed overly eager to help him find what he was looking for. He was so grateful, that he spent a little extra for his supplies.

A razor was not on the list. Both of them knew this. He was glad she didn’t suggest it. Lightly scratching his chin after he left the shop, he adjusted the black sunglasses that he’d bought and straightened out the wide brimmed sunhat on his head. Resuming his trek back to Jersey, he mentally reviewed the fastest trek to get him back into New York. His lips curled up at the corners as he walked. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Passing a window as he headed straight towards a park, he paused. Tilting his sunglasses down, both of his brows shot up. He didn’t at all recognize the man in front of him. It had more to do with the changes to his upper body from such intensive labor…than from the lack of a mirror. The beard also helped a lot. He looked nothing like his formerly lanky self. He’d been muscular before, but this was on another level. _I wish the Knotts had a mirror._ Or something for him to have seen himself in. His entire goal while there had been to blend in and work to support himself.

_I wonder what everyone is going to think…_ He wasn’t exactly sure. Resuming his trek, he ignored a lone whistle he heard. He hoped that the sound was not intended for him. To avoid confronting that possibility, he kept his gaze forward, his filthy feet taking one step at a time. Going by land was going to take him a few days longer than he wanted. He knew realistically the trip back to the heart of New York City should only take him at most…twenty hours. He planned on stopping to eat and sleep.

_A Few Hours Later_

One thing that he hadn’t noticed before as he walked were the signs in the widows of eateries and shops. They all seemed to have similar messages. ‘No shoes, no shirt, no service.’ The first few that he passed, he had ignored. Now though, he was becoming annoyed. He felt hungry, irritation twisting his features. Finally finding a submarine shop, he blatantly ignored the sign and stepped inside. Almost immediately, an employee approached him. “Hello.” He spoke softly, hoping to get off on the right foot. First impressions were important, right?

“Sir, did you read the sign on the door?” Relaxing his hands, Peter allowed his eyebrows to rise in a way that conveyed confusion. He was going to try to play off not understanding fully. “No shirt, no shoes. No service, sir. You need to leave.”

“I understand that. Can I still buy a sandwich? I’ve been traveling all this time to get to—” Peter wasn’t allowed to say much before the employee became aggressive.

“I don’t care. Get out of here before I have to call the police!” At that, the young man perked up. Folding his arms and standing straighter, Peter tensed his jaw as if he was deeply in thought. He nodded in understanding and then spoke.

“Sure. Go call them. Ask them to bring some food.” At the employee’s annoyed expression, the young man refused to leave the shop. Peter had been walking for far too long to be refused a meal. He knew that most of the grocery markets around would treat him in a similar fashion…if not worse.

“Man, just give him something to eat!” One of the patrons yelled at the front. The older man with dark shades and strikingly white hair –which was slicked back – had been standing at the counter when Peter first came in and was about to place his order. He then turned to Peter. “What’re you looking for?”

“Just chips, a sub and soda. I’ve come up here from Pennsylvania and haven’t had much to eat on the road.” _Or anything._ It would have been a good idea to pack some staples before he’d left…but he’d more or less been fleeing for his life when he’d left the Knott’s land. The older man frowned, his expressions accentuated by his white moustache and almost comically bushy eyebrows. 

“Nothing in your car?”

“What car?” Peter countered. He wiggled his toes for emphasis. “I walked here.” It wasn’t entirely honest, because he had cut a lot of time off the trip by web swinging, but he couldn’t admit to that. The older man seemed to notice that Peter’s pants were held up with suspenders, not a belt loop in sight. Looping his fingers around the suspenders he wore himself, he turned back to the counter.

“Get him whatever he wants.” The older man demanded of the employee in the shop. “Or I and my family will go somewhere else.” He paused a moment and added. “And I have a lot of family!”

“Fine, fine! No problem, sir!” Peter was surprised to see the employee’s attitude change so quickly. Just who was his unlikely friend? Likely someone of high importance. The older man turned to him.

“Go ahead and order, son.” The other man said with a grin. Unable to resist smiling back, Peter placed his order. Before Peter fully pulled out money to pay, the older man shook his head. “I have it.” Grin still in place, he turned to the worker behind the counter and slid his card into the reader to pay. The two of them received their beverages, silence filling the eatery for a moment. The older man sipped on his beverage before looking up and exclaiming: “Excelsior! Still the best soda-pop this side of the river!” Peter couldn’t hold back a laugh then. Both of them collected their food to-go and as Peter headed out of the eatery, he paused. Turning a bit, he addressed the older man.

“Thank you so much. I’ll repay you when I can.” The older man lightly tapped Peter on the shoulder.

“Lee. Call me Lee.” His lips quirked at that. “The only payment you have to do, young man, is pass on the kindness to someone else. Then you’ll be able to say: ‘You know, I guess one person can make a difference.’ And you’ll remember me.” Peter wasn’t sure what to say. “Nuff said. Have a good rest of your day.” With that said, the old man walked out of the eatery. Peter turned in the opposite direction. He stopped, realizing something as he adjusted the grip on his bag.

“Ah…Lee?” He realized the older man’s order of chips were accidentally placed into Peter’s to-go bag. However, when the young webslinger turned to where the older man should have been, there was no one there. Peter blinked, owlishly. _Strange…_ Deciding not to think about it too much, the young man sought out a bench to eat at. Devouring his sub sandwich didn’t take very long at all, but he held onto his chips for later. He resumed walking after disposing of the wrapper. Shrugging his duffel back in place, he looked up at the buildings around him. None of them were close to the skyscrapers that he was used to seeing everywhere. Was he biased? For months now, he hadn’t seen anything but open flat farmland, trees and the occasional chicken or goat. _Why did the chicken cross the road?_ He asked himself as he began whistling a tune he’d picked up from locals that lived back in Pennsylvania. _Why Peter, the chicken crossed because it wanted to._

_Three and a Half Months Ago_

Otto’s legs swung idly as he sat in the private medical suite of Roderick Kingsley. He’d just been examined by the businessman’s personal physician. Reaching out to Roderick had been the last thing that he wanted to do. However, the situation he was in stated otherwise. The chest pain and shortness of breath had been intermittent but persistent. “Doing that does nothing to make your results faster, Otto.” Instead of replying, the scientist continued to swing his legs. It was the only outlet that he had for the nervous energy that he’d been building since leaving his lab. It hadn’t been a relatively easy matter to get in touch with the Hobgoblin, especially when such a man was so elusive. Roderick was slick and had the money to make himself disappear if he needed to. It didn’t matter. Otto knew where to push to get someone to spill the information he needed. In the interim between now and then though, he’d collapsed one more time however it was due to a sudden lack of balance. Or so he hoped. So far, ‘I’m fine, just a little tired.’ had been his mantra. It wasn’t until he was with Roderick that he’d been honest over his affliction.

Now the two men were sitting here and waiting for the results of a blood test. Neither of them looked directly at the other. It was just as uncomfortable for Roderick as it was for Otto, though for different reasons. Someone within his syndicate had been weak and shared information of his whereabouts. Secured channels no longer were as secure. So, when Otto did reach him, Roderick had decided to conduct an internal review to find out who the snitch was. When they were found, he would ‘silence’ them forever. The left side of his mouth curved up at the corner. The scientist had honestly begged for his help. Roderick was willing – this time. What was he to get in return though? Otto hadn’t been fully outspoken on what he was going to do, only mentioning his need and a request for a favor. Roderick had agreed to wipe clean his old debt with Otto, but he was beginning to wonder if that was a good idea. The silence was uncomfortable for the both of them, yet neither felt the desire to say much of anything at all.

Mercifully, the physician returned to the examination room. “Well?” Roderick spoke up before the _patient_ could. Instead of saying much after Otto had come in for his second visit in a bit over a week, the doctor had merely told him to sit on the exam table. “It’s been a week, doctor. What have you found?” He was agitated, having to cancel a meeting for this. Otto leveled a mild glare at him. If anything, Roderick was renowned for his lack of patience. How he was a successful businessman was anyone’s guess.

“Of course, Mr. Kingsley.” The doctor was relatively young. Otto turned his attention to him. Something was wrong. He could tell in how tightly the young doctor was clutching his clipboard. “Mr. Post…” He began in a soft tone, his voice full of compassion.” Otto’s knuckles had grown a bit white on the section of the exam bed he was grasping. His legs had stopped swinging as well. “You’re not well, Mr. Post. You were right about the issues with your heart.” As the doctor spoke, he walked over to a display and turned it on. Extracting a scan from the chart he held, he slipped it in place and pointed to areas of concern. “We checked for cardiac enzymes. The levels were very high. Here and here…” He pointed to the left and right ventricles first. “These areas are enlarged. It’s the same for the right and left atrium.” His brows furrowed. “It’s a wonder you hadn’t thrown a blood clot before you got here, Mr. Post.” He directed the attentions of both men to a section of the muscled chambers of his patient’s heart. “The muscle here has grown thin and the heart isn’t functioning like it’s supposed to.”

Turning around after delivering the diagnosis, the doctor’s eyes widened suddenly and he reached out to steady Otto as the man nearly toppled headfirst off the exam bed. “Mr. Post!” Looking up to his main employer, the doctor spoke up. “He needs a hospital, Mr. Kingley. They can better treat his condition there. Dilated cardiomyopathy isn’t something to play around with.”

“No…” Otto choked out, startling both men. His hand wrapped around the doctor’s wrist. “No hospitals…” Otto shook his head a little trying to regain some semblance of steadiness. _Cardiomyopathy…_ His mind struggled to piece the definition together. _Disease…my heart is diseased…_ “Just… just medication.”

“Ott—Mark.” Roderick interjected, nearly forgetting the alias they were using. “The doctor says you need a hospital.” Still, Otto stubbornly shook his head.

“What is the treatment…for this?” He worked hard to keep his breathing steady. He noticed when the doctor silently began to check his pulse. Instead of immediately replying, the doctor glanced to his employer.

“Mr. Kingsley, we need to elevate Mr. Post’s feet.” That said, he looked to Otto, a grim frown in place. “My normal recommendation would be cardiac catherization to figure out the extent of the damage from inside… followed up by surgery to repair the damage to your heart. It _is_ extensive, Mr. Post. I’d even see if you could be placed on the transplant list as soon as possible.” Roderick silently helped the doctor lift Otto’s legs up into the bed. Then the businessman moved to a closet and pulled out two pillows. Gently, he slid them under Otto’s legs to prop them up. “A bivad would help you immensely.” Otto shook his head. “Angiotensin-converting enzyme inhibitors then… More extensive medications depending on how you handle it all.” Otto nodded mutely. It was true that he had grown pale when first given his diagnosis…but he felt better with his legs elevated. It was unnerving to him all the same. He couldn’t very well spend the rest of his life like this!

“What’s the long-term prognosis?” Roderick asked. He knew that Otto had plenty of questions, but the normally bold man had grown understandably silent. “That is…” With this, he looked at Otto. “If he doesn’t get surgery?” The doctor pursed his lips and shook his head.

“I also detected indicators of accelerated cellular decay.” He picked up his chart and looked at it. “You said you worked in a place where you had mild radiation exposure?” Otto nodded faintly. Pulling a pen from his pocket, the doctor jotted down a few notes on the chart.

“The exposure is mild…and I kept myself protected.” Was that the truth though? After all, he dealt with irradiated isotopes on a regular basis…there was a significant margin for error. By the stare he was on the receiving end of, his efforts hadn’t been as smooth or safe as he had hoped.

“You need to leave that profession, Mr. Post. Without access to proper medical treatment in a _hospital_ , you are looking at a lifespan of eighteen months…if that. The left ventricle is the thinnest section of your heart. If the next heart attack is centralized there, you’re at risk of a free wall rupture.” He gently placed a hand on Otto’s shoulder. “I know at this point that you don’t want to go to a hospital, but please reconsider. For your sake.” He lightly squeezed Otto’s shoulder. Lifting his head, he looked to his employer. “I’ll leave a copy on your desk as soon as I compile everything together, Mr. Kingsley. I’ll also send over a rush order for the ACE Inhibitors today. I’d like Mr. Post to follow his prescription to the letter.” After he received a nod, he capped his pen and slid it back into his pocket. “I’ll take my leave then. Good day to you both.”

The room was quiet again, but for a completely different reason. After a few minutes, Roderick spoke up. “What…” He had to clear his throat a few times. “What are you going to do, Otto?” Distractedly, he ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. He hadn’t expected any of this. Doctor Ashton was the best that money could buy. However, even he had suggested Otto go to a hospital. “This is pretty serious. It’s worse than I thought it was.” The genius had been quiet during most of his visit. It wasn’t fear that kept him silent, though he did not like the idea of his own impending demise bearing down on him. Instead of sitting upright like he normally would have, he moved like the old man that he suddenly had become. There were so many scenarios swirling through his mind. He had so much work to do yet. He wasn’t ready to die.

“I’m going…” He spoke then, noticing with disgust that Roderick moved to help him up before he waved the other man off. “To turn back the clock.” The scientist pulled off the ever-present thick glasses he wore to rub the skin right above his eyebrows. _It is possible…_ He knew that there was a way for him to achieve what he wished… but his body was beginning to lose time. _I need supplies…_

“I don’t understand.” Roderick replied, crossing his arms. Was this the rambling of a man who was losing his mind? It was entirely possible.

“Roderick… I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you for another favor.” Roderick’s brows rose sharply.

_Present Day_

Tired, sore and hungry – Peter finally came to a building he’d found in a paper. He tilted his head a little to the right to look at the building again. His eyes drifted down to the image in the paper. The two buildings looked night and day. Pulling a face but quickly forcing his features to relax, Peter walked up the few steps to enter the youth hostel. Was _this_ really the best that New York City had? He’d just made it to the city after hopping the Belford/Harbor Way Ferry heading to Pier 11/Wall Street. It sounded good, save for the fact that the young man pushed himself to travel overnight. After having that wonderful meal courtesy of Lee, he’d opted to keep going. He wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible the entire trip and no way would he be able to do that as Spiderman. There was also an urgency involved. Why was Doc Ock promising his device would make the city safer?

“Can I help?” An aging woman at the front desk greeted him. Then her eyes tracked down to his bare feet.

Coughing lightly, Peter stepped closer to the desk. “Yes. I’d like to rent out one of the rooms her—”

“Forty per night.” She interrupted, turning to an open book on the desk – immediately ignoring Peter’s next words if he spoke any. Her thick accent was interesting, but Peter wasn’t sure where it came from. Without preamble, she was getting down to business. If Peter was offended by being so roughly brushed off, she didn’t seem to care. “The only open room is the attic suite.” She wrote down a note in the book and stepped over to an old looking computer at the opposite end of the desk. “Breakfast is included and begins at 6:30AM. Ends at 7:30AM.” She scribbled down something else into the book. “Lunch is not provided, but there is dinner. Stewed meat.” She looked up and offered a toothy grin. There was plenty of brown visible between her teeth, and Peter was careful not to step too close. “Dinner rolls are always available.” The young man nodded. “Unless they’re not.” Peter’s mouth worked a few times, but he was unsure of what to say. With that said, she turned her attention back to the computer screen. “First time reservation is two nights mandatory.” Off his look of askance, she lightly shrugged her slender shoulders. “It is protection. We have been cheated before.”

“Ah… I understand.”

“First two nights payment cash only.” Sighing, Peter reached into his bag to get the money. He tried to pretend that he didn’t notice how the old woman was trying to see exactly where he’d reached into the bag. “Again, it is protection. After first two nights, we can take a card.”

_Going to have to keep on my toes._ Peter decided. He was going to need to carry his wallet with him. The woman was not even hiding how much she was looking forward to the money, already reaching out her withered hands for the cash. Peter neatly handed it to her.

“Name?” She asked after she counted the money three times to confirm. Fantastic. It was good she had asked, otherwise she could have had an unknown man living here.

“Hammer. Edgar Hammer.” Now, it was she who gave him a mildly incredulous look before shrugging again. She both wrote his name down and typed up something in the computer.

“How many nights?” Hmm! That was a good question. Just how long did Peter need to foil Doc Ock’s plan? Then there was the matter of the fact that he was low on supplies that were needed to fully stock his webshooters. And he needed to check out what had become of his house…

“Two weeks.” Nodding, she typed something into the computer and suddenly he heard the humming of a printer. Stooping down a little, she grabbed a sheet of paper and handed it to him. “T…Thanks.”

“I will show the room to you.” With that, she stepped from behind the desk and guided him to the nearby staircase. “The key is on the inside of the door. We have duplicates, but the loss key fee is ten dollars. Only key is for the room.” Peter nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Curfew is eleven in the evening.” Peter had to admit, as he followed the old woman up the staircase, that she kept herself active. She was holding a full conversation and running up the stairs with only one hand on the rail for reassurance. “If you miss curfew, you sleep outside. No excuses.”

_Of course, that makes perfect sense._ Peter hoped that there was a window in the attic. Otherwise, coming and going was going to be a problem. The old woman stopped talking when she reached the top of the stairs. She took a few steps to the left and reached up to a metal chain with a link hanging from a square shaped hole in the ceiling. As she pulled on it, the square opened and a ladder slid down to them.

“There is secure lockbox in the room. Only one key for it. Leave key for it when you go.” Peter held back a relieved sigh. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to rob him. Then again… “This door here is your room.” She said as soon as they clambered through the square hole. It looked like an addition had been put into the building fairly recently. The attic room’s door was two steps from the ladder. He was going to have to be very careful if he had to come down in a hurry. Pushing the door open, the old woman pointed out the solitary single bed there and the floor next to it where a flimsy looking lockbox was located.

Yep. He was not going to use that.

“Bathroom is downstairs to the left of the staircase. I take you brought own toilet paper, yes?” _That_ alarmed him, but he nodded faintly. It was one of the few supplies he could carry on the road. Now he was glad he’d bought it. “Good. Don’t leave in the bathroom. It will disappear.” Leaving him then, she carefully stepped back to the ladder. “Dinner is at 6:00PM and ends at 7:00PM. Do not be late.” Offering him a strange smile, she began to descend the ladder.

“Thanks again, Mrs…uhh…” At that, the old lady stopped and looked up at him.

“Anastasia Hayden. Call me ‘Stasie’.” At that, she finished her downward descent, and Peter heard the sound of the ladder being pushed back up into place. Now that he was alone, he could study the room more closely. There was only a small nightstand with a clock and not a hint of a dresser in sight. Truly, the room was pretty sparse. However, there was a window, which was what he hoped to have. The walls were all brick, save the wall where his ‘door’ was. That seemed to be composed of a sturdy wood. Reading the time on the clock, Peter rubbed his eyes. It was 9:30AM. Yawning, he pulled his wallet from his bag and tucked it down his pants, using the clip on the chain to fasten it to the front of his pants. Removing his costume and webshooters, he tucked them under the lone pillow on the bed and laid down for some much-needed sleep.

*

He never was sure about his timing, but today it was excellent. He’d woken up around five in the evening and scrambled downstairs to use the facilities. Splashing water on his face before he left the bathroom, he weaved himself a bit to the right to avoid being walked into by a burly man stalking into the bathroom. Opting to stay silent, Peter hurriedly pulled down the ladder again and returned to his room. Unzipping his duffel bag, he pulled out a change of clothing. A shower was going to have to wait until after dinner. His stomach started grumbling loudly as he tried to plan out his evening. Moving around quietly, he tested the window and found that it unlocked with no problems. Looking around, he climbed onto the windowsill and then out the window. Quietly climbing up onto the roof, he stretched a little and used the new vantage to plan his travel route from here.

Webswinging was the fastest mode of transport. _Problem!_ He thought irritably. _Limitation on supplies._ So, he’d have to travel by climbing on rooftops. Where should he go first? His old house? He was pretty sure he was an hour away on foot. Would Stasie be mad if he was late getting back? _Does she have to know?_ He wondered. If he went out the same way, she’d be none the wiser that he was gone. _I hope she doesn’t check to see if we’re in our rooms._ Frowning a little, he noticed dark gray clouds rolling in. It was going to rain. _Ah, I miss the comforting updates of the WeatherWasp app._ He missed having most of the technology he’d grown up with. He’d gained something while he’d been gone though…and it wasn’t just five months’ worth of beard growth. _If I go back and reveal I’m back…_ He swallowed hard at the thought. _Mary Jane is still there._ Did it matter though? She had ended their engagement. Jameson was there too, but Peter doubted the man would hire him again. Peter Parker would need to find a different line of work.

His work for the Knott family had been relatively simple. A faint smile crossed his lips. Simple, but fulfilling. Could he find the same sense of purpose back here? Shaking his head and climbing back into the room, he noted with a start that he’d been on the roof for a while. It was almost six. Closing the window, he walked to the door and headed downstairs for dinner. What were they having again? _Stewed meat…_ He thought as he walked down the stairs. _Didn’t she say the dinner rolls were always there?_ He held back a laugh at the memory of her contradicting her statement right afterwards. He located the dining area by smell alone and came to sit down at the long roughly hewn dinner table. He noticed new faces at the table. So, five of them were renting here. What was he supposed to call them? Roommates? He decided to engage none of them. He did notice the big guy from earlier grabbing four of the dinner rolls from the overloaded basket at the table. The man barely seemed to suck in a breath before he started eating the doughy bread.

“Dinner for you.” Stasie stated as she placed the bowls down first in front of her five tenants with spoons in them and then served the stewed meat…one ladle at a time. Somehow all of the bowls were overflowing, even hers. Everyone started eating, with Stasie taking a seat at the head of the table. Thunder rolled overhead and soon; everyone heard the sounds of a heavy rainstorm outside. Because no one was talking, dinner was a quick affair. Peter rose and set his bowl in the sink once he was done eating.

“Thank you.” He spoke, noting his hostess’ surprise, before heading back up to his room. “Going to turn in early.” He murmured as a way of explanation. He’d traveled all the way up the ladder to his room to retrieve his shower materials. When he reached the communal shower they all shared though, he found that he wasn’t alone. It seemed that several families of spiders had taken residence inside the shower. While he wasn’t terrified of spiders, he did not want to disturb them. With a grunt, he returned to his room. Grimacing, he scratched his back. He was so sweaty and grimy…it was really disgusting. Sitting on the bed, he rested his head in his hands.

An idea came to him then and he looked at the window. Should he dare it?

Propping the window open and grasping the bag with his soap and scrubbing rags, he noticed no one out on the streets. Exhilaration filled him once he felt the rain pelting him as he climbed to the flat roof he’d been on earlier. He was doing it. He was really going to do this! And this…

Honestly.

This…

Was how Peter Parker showered in the rain while standing on the flat roof of a hostel during a massive rainstorm.

Adrenaline pumping still after he’d returned to his room, he decided that he’d slept enough for now. Peter strapped the webshooters in place. Tucking his suit into his duffle bag, he put on his mask and changed back into his jeans. No shirt was needed after all, but a belt was sorely appreciated. He’d head to the house tonight. Walking in the rain wasn’t going to do. After appropriately setting his bed to look as if he was sleeping there, he climbed outside with the bag secured diagonally around his body.

And he began to swing.

_Some Time Later_

Locating his house had been easy. Getting inside was another matter. Someone had changed the locks. Searching around it, he found a loose window that he’d used before and climbed inside. It was quiet…and very cold. Were the lights off by now? Pulling out a flashlight, he walked through his home. Everything in the house still seemed intact. Maybe someone had been taking care of it for him? He did see something on the ground near the front door, that twinkled a little in the scant light available. Upon inspection, he found it to be a big chunk of glass. Had someone broken in here? As he checked all of the rooms, everything was just as he’d left it. Much to his joy, he found the materials he needed to create more of the spider webbing that he used. Deciding to stay there for a few hours to work on it didn’t seem like a bad idea…until he heard the doorknob turning. Turning off his flashlight, he made sure the vials he’d grabbed were tightly stoppered and put them in his duffel bag.

He was quiet as his ‘visitor’ walked into the house and flipped on the lights. Thankfully he was in a different room. He scaled the walls quickly in the still dark room, staring down from the ceiling. He noticed a very familiar face walk right past the room and into the guest room. His eyes widened in shock, but he stayed silent. Once he was sure it was safe, he left out the same way he came in, closing the window before slinging himself away.

_One Month Ago_

He couldn’t believe it! Typing calculations into a tablet that rested in his lap, Otto used his right hand to navigate with the motorized wheelchair around the modified laboratory. The curtesy of course was through Kingsley Industries. Octavius had made a promise. Technology in exchange for help. Now, his primary means of travel was his wheelchair. He was more than capable of walking, but minimized it in consideration for his ‘fragile’ condition. Even now, remembering the doctor’s warnings agitated him. He didn’t want to admit defeat to anything, much less to his own failing biology. In response, he had begun to build a ‘solution’. If he couldn’t fix his sick body…he was going to acquire another one.

“Status?” Otto looked up from his tablet.

Strings. Those were attached to this arrangement. “Everything is progressing ahead of schedule.” Otto replied. “The Neutral-Interfacing Muxponder is nearly complete.”

“And…what does it do again?”

“It…copies the brain waves of others.” That was part of it. The Muxponder was meant to subtly ‘adjust’ the brain patterns of whomever it was used on. It would tap into them first, was capable of mimicking the brain pattern – or even be used to overwrite the original brainwaves with those of someone else. In effect, whoever had it used on them would cease to exist. Otto was certain that he could easily transfer himself into the newly ‘vacated’ body and regain his youth and vigor. Side effects were certain to be mild. He was working on a kill switch for it to prevent anyone else from using it.

“And…” At that Roderick gestured to a small cylinder next to where they were standing. It was easily big enough to fit a grown man into.

“Oh…” At that Otto laughed. “New method of teleportation.” Roderick regarded the scientist with some skepticism. The businessman wasn’t stupid. He knew there was more than what he was being told. Without any way to check without raising suspicion, he held his tongue. “It’s revolutionary.” At that, the scientist grinned.

“There are already methods of teleportation, Otto.” Keeping the smile in place, though now it seemed forced, Otto shook his head.

“No… I think you will find this to be…quite unique.” With that, Otto let his attention drift back to his tablet. He directed the wheelchair back to a particular table that held the Muxponder. The device looked strange. It was in the shape of a half moon. There was a cradle where someone’s head would go into…but who would voluntarily let themselves be tied to that thing?

“Sure, Otto.” Roderick shook his head. “Keep me informed.” He said as he left the lab.

“Always.” Otto replied quietly, a devious grin crossing his lips. The Muxponder just needed mild adjustments and it would be ready. The… ‘chamber’ on the other hand… was more brutish in design. He’d named it the ‘Reverse Recombination Chamber’ and was in the process of installing a quantum field as a security on it. Whomever it ‘disassembled at the atomic level’ would be rid of entirely…or he could build them back from the ground floor. Using it would give him complete access to the ‘secret’ atomic code of any individual. It was possible to rebuild anyone and program them to work for him.

_The Hostel – Present Day_

_Wow…_ Once Peter had returned to his room, he had changed for bed. Thankfully, Stasie didn’t rob you when she thought you were in your room. He still couldn’t believe who had taken over his home while he was gone. _Never thought Mary Jane would do that…_ Though, it made sense. His home was already paid for. Realistically, all she had to do was just make sure all of the bills were paid. It bothered him a little that she had just _moved_ herself back into the house. _It wasn’t official that we had separated. And the house is secured._ She had done an excellent job of maintaining the place. In the past, Peter had spent many nights trying to imagine what his former fiancée’s life must have been like. He’d seen her as moving on with someone else. _Wait…what if she’s not alone in the house?_ The though sickened him just a little. Fortunately, he was able to still get to bed.

The next morning, at 6:29AM on the dot, Peter was sitting down at the table for breakfast. “No lunch. Remember.” Peter nodded quickly. Breakfast was warm gruel, some slightly stale cereal bars…and dinner rolls. He opted for the gruel and ignored the dinner rolls. After breakfast, he splashed around a bit in the sink to wash up. He’d wanted to use the bathroom after breakfast…but had been horrified when he lifted the toilet seat. He wasn’t sure who had done that…but he was not going to fix it. Donning his costume suit bottoms only, he dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and headed out with his duffle in hand. In case of an emergency, he could pull on his mask and go slinging bare-chested through the city. The other option was to risk bursting through the tightly woven shirt…not an option. He needed to find work. During his quiet breakfast, Stasia had reminded him that he was due to re-up that evening. Which meant he needed money. With what though? His passion had been photography, but there was no way he would be working for Jameson again.

Walking down the street, he passed a florist’s shop. Stopping, he turned around and walked in. _It couldn’t hurt could it?_

*

“So…tell me what your qualifications are. You have no resume. You just walked in here and asked if we would hire you.” The middle-aged woman who owned the shop did not seem impressed.

“Well…” Peter began, sweating a little. _I can’t be counted out already!_ “I’m up from Pennsylvania. I did manual labor there, but—” He turned around and held his hands up while staring at the ceiling. “No work here for woodcutters.”

“Can you lift anything over fifty pounds?” Peter rapidly nodded.

“I can lift anything you want me to.”

“Prove it.” She challenged. This man only had his words to state that he’d be able to work with anything. He knew nothing at all about how to properly do floral arrangements. She did have to admit; she was glad he was honest about that. However, his newest claim… “Anyone can claim to be able to lift anything. I need solid proof of—uh…” Peter had set his duffle down on the freshly swept floor. At first, he danced in a four-step, then backflipped into a breakdancing six step. He jumped around a few times on his hands before lifting himself into a headstand. His t-shirt flopped up to show all of his muscled stomach and part of his chest. “That’s not what I expected.” He had turned himself around so he was able to see her from upside down. Then, he tucked his left arm behind his back and bent his elbow. The florist rubbed her eyes with her palms, not sure what she was seeing. Her eyes hadn’t been deceiving her though. There was a grown man literally doing one-armed headstand push-ups in her flower shop! How was that even possible? His antics had been noticed by people outside the shop and some of them peeked in. Before she could say anything, a man spoke up.

“That’s pretty cool. I’ve never seen anyone do that before.” Returning to his feet, Peter resisted the urge to bow and turned back to the owner of the flower shop.

“Proven.” He said simply. The man who had spoken earlier came all the way in the shop.

“When he’s done buying flowers, I’d like to get some too.” He smiled. “Must be pretty excited to do something like that.” While he was still talking, other people had begun to pile into the small shop as well.

“We’d like some flowers too!” A young woman chimed in, clutching her daughter’s hand. “See, Sarah. He’s done doing that trick.”

“I’m not a customer though.” Peter explained.

“He’s right. He’s my newest employee here.” Peter spun around; his eyes wide. “Get over here, Mr. Hammer. We have orders to fill. I need you to handle the register.”

*

When Peter found himself nearly jogging up the front steps to the hostel, it had grown dark outside. Stasie greeted him at the door. “You’re late.” She stated simply, pointing to a wall clock. 8PM. “Dinner is already over with, Mr. Hammer.” Peter shrugged lightly. He had already eaten a light dinner before coming back, though he had been curious as to what everyone else was having.

“Stasie…do you take cash?” He asked simply, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

“Yes. Remember, forty a night. Your payment for tomorrow is due before eleven tomorrow—Oh!” The young man had pulled out a few large bills. After working at the florist’s shop to help with the massive uptick in business, the man he had impressed had asked if he could help haul a few things for him at his automotive store. He had done just that, and scrubbed up the stubborn and sticky oil that never seemed to want to leave the floor of the garage next door. The three jobs had all paid him straight out in cash for his work. Peter counted out enough for his full stay.

“Four hundred, eighty. And…” He pulled out an extra twenty, adding it to the stack. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here.” Her mouth hanging open, Stasie nodded almost absently and stumbled a little going to her computer. She counted the money and printed out his receipt. He took it with a smile.

“Thanks, Stasie!” Turning, he headed to the stairs before her voice stopped him.

“Wait!” He turned, quirking his brow in curiosity. “There is some meatloaf left. I will heat food up for you in oven.” His smile widened, and he walked back with her to the kitchen. Who was he to turn her down?

_Day Four_

Instead of going to work today, Peter had taken a day off and was busy trying to get his cartridges reloaded with a drastic difference in locations. They were not allowed to smoke in the house, so finding a heating source for the chemicals he was mixing was not easy. He’d found it though and carefully loaded the cartridges. Heading to the bathroom, he used his fresh batch of webbing to make a suitable container for the spiders in the shower and took them to the roof. Peter, obviously was the first one in there to use that particular shower. ‘Big Burly’ had been surprised to see Parker coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and his hair dripping. “Enjoy!” Peter stated as he walked past the bigger man and headed back to his attic room. One of the other ‘roommates’ that still stayed there was a quiet man, who was very thin with eyes that protruded just a little too much. He always looked surprised, but in fact didn’t seem bothered by much.

“You fixed the shower?” The slight man asked when they met in the hallway. Peter nodded.

“Yep.”

“Those were a lot of spiders…” He shivered. Peter nodded; his expression grim.

“Big ones too.” Tucking his towel more securely, Peter swiftly climbed up to his room.

The people that stayed there changed overnight sometimes, or so it seemed.

_Day Seven_

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Peter wiped the sweat off his forehead. Today, he’d taken on a painting job, and part of it involved him hauling buckets of paint up and secure them to the ladder he was using. Doing anything like this wasn’t safe, but he wasn’t going to complain. So far, he had painted a small corner of the house. The work was mitigated by others working with him. Still… It was hard going and there was no way he was going to be sloppy with his work. He was on a team with two other men. The work was supposed to be done in two days. Initially, he had jumped at the offer. After all, how hard was it to paint a house? _And my mistakes…_ He thought drolly. _I’ve made a few…_ And this was one of them. He was going to be here all day working. And was roped into working the next day.

_Day Eleven_

Walking back from a run to a deli to buy a special treat to share with his ‘housemates’, he stopped at a newsstand the bought a paper. The front cover had caught his eye. Apparently, this evening, Otto was going to host an ‘unveiling’ of what he called the ‘Peacemaker’. What surprised Peter was seeing the man in a wheelchair in the image. Just _what_ was going on? Folding the paper under his arm, he glanced at the simple watch he wore. _It’s four and the ceremonies start at six…_ He let out an aggravated sigh. That was fine. He could always have hogshead cheese at another date. Returning to the hostel, he greeted Stasie at the front desk. “I bought something for everyone.” Ever since his ‘surprise’ for the older woman, she’d been a lot nicer to him. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. He offered the bag to her. “It’s for dinner tonight.” Stasie light sniffed the bag and grinned widely at him.

“Everyone is going to love this, Edgar.” He nodded.

“Unfortunately, I have to leave. Today.” Her features fell, bewilderment on her face. “Right now, actually. I’ll collect my things and bring you the key.

“You still have a few days left.”

“It’s fine. And I know, Stasie. ‘No refunds.’ I wasn’t going to ask.” He laughed softly at her slight glare. “Thank you for the stay and the food.” He gestured to the bag he’d given her. “I hope everyone enjoys.”

“Fine.” She waved him on his way and went over to her computer. He heard what he thought was a slight sniffle as he ascended the stairs. Packing was quick, a benefit of living out of a duffle bag. Less than ten minutes passed before Peter was heading back down the stairs. He handed his key to Stasie. Looking up at him, her eyes a bit red, she handed him his final receipt. “Whatever it is…” She began, having to pause to swallow. She rested a hand on his chest. “Be careful.” Peter smiled, lightly patting her hand.

“I’ll be back. Someday.” After he left the hostel, Peter headed toward the event hall chosen for Ock’s speech. Maybe he could get a lay out of everything before figuring out what was happening. His first night he had ached to patrol, but had heard rumblings that things were very quiet. Maybe he was more of an outsider now, but he didn’t understand why no super-powered villains had attacked in the city of late. _Maybe I missed them all._

Either way, he was going to reveal Spiderman had returned tonight.

_Goodbye Edgar Hammer._ He thought with a wistful sigh. _Peter Parker is back_.

\----

AN: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! It was a lot of fun for me to work on. A big thank you goes to Sumira79 for helping me spot-check my writing. Thanks for encouraging me to keep going with a sore backside, sore wrist and with chronic fatigue…and staying up late with me.

And as a preview of the next chapter…

_Otto noticed too late that both of them had left the ground entirely. He lost his grip on the helmet as Spiderman hurled both of them headfirst towards the opposite wall, then abruptly changed the trajectory with his webs, both of them hurtling towards the open chamber door at terrifying speed. The security field had collapsed on itself; the former white mist inside having taken on a swirling and sparkling pattern often seen in space. Otto started screaming, having lost his glasses during the fight. His bloodshot eyes stared into Spiderman's. The scientist grabbed his chest, the veins bulging in his eyes before he began choking—_

Until next time. – J. Lyst


	3. Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How rude!” She yelled at the top of her lungs. “I wasn’t done giving you my order! How hard is it for you to follow simple instructions, hmm?” Jess bit her bottom lip hard, trying to contain her emotions. “All you have to do is wait for me to give you my order! What part of that didn’t you understand?!” Jess didn’t want to get upset. She looked away from the yelling woman. “Just what I thought! If you weren’t so stupid and useless, you wouldn’t be working here!” A kernel of pain began to grow in the young waitress. This customer didn’t know her at all and was treating her like she was no one...

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own Spiderman or any of the Marvel heroes listed here. It’d be utterly wonderful though. This is just my take on their lives.

**Warning:** Major Character Death. If you have emetophobia, you’ll want to skip the middle of the document.

Navigating The Curve

By Juliette Lyst

Hunter

Shortly after leaving the hostel, Peter took a detour through Theodore Roosevelt Park. Looking around at some of the people there, families or friends out for late picnics, he felt his teeth grinding together a little. _How long has it been?_ He wondered. If he were honest with himself, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything with family. Heading to the footpath, he started a light jog, trying to find some privacy. He’d heard that there was mostly silence from the villains he typically faced. Was that true or was it worse? When he worked at the Bugle, he had access to the newest and freshest news… or as fresh as they had to offer. Knowing how much time he had left until the ‘festivities’ increased his anxiety. Under most circumstances, Peter wouldn’t be so upset to see so many people in his immediate vicinity. He needed somewhere secluded to change his clothes. As he approached a section of the park that was more densely forested, he slowed a little to catch his breath. What was he running from really? _No one even remembers what I look like._ Nor did he look like his old self with so much hair growth.

So what was the problem?

If he wasn’t going to return to life as Peter, he wouldn’t have cared. Then again – Peter Parker and Spiderman were intricately tied. One couldn’t be found anywhere without the other nearby. Would his sudden reappearance along with the webslinger tie them together? Did it even matter? _I can’t focus on just that…_ Lives could be at stake while he wasted time trying to wax philosophical about his life choices. Deep down, Peter had known that the peace and quiet he’d grown accustomed to was not to last. _Even if I wanted to stay back there, I couldn’t have._ He’d gone on the run again, but this time from a man who wanted his blood back in Pennsylvania. He couldn’t have lasted much longer or gone too far without exposing who he was to protect himself. Sometimes, he wondered though if Mrs. Knott was safe. Her husband seemed far too much at ease with taking another person’s life. Even if the shopkeeper played music on a radio, that was no excuse.

Letting out a soft grunt as he struggled to pull on the upper half of his costume…he let out a sigh as he managed to wedge himself back fully into the skintight material. _I need to upgrade this outfit._ He thought, placing his gloved had on a tree trunk. _Can’t be bursting out of my clothes._ No…that particular indignity was reserved for other individuals. He twisted his upper body a little, hearing the seams creaking. Pulling his mask on, he stifled a laugh at the thought of needing some grease to slip back into his tight-fitting costume again. _I’m glad I didn’t need to lubricate all of this._ He didn’t want to think what could happen if he’d needed to use butter and was in close quarters with a foe. He’d probably start cooking in his costume the longer they fought. Quickly, he checked his inventory, ensuring that he had extra cartridges for webbing with him. He had never used the extra slots – yet filled them too. _I hope this doesn’t last long._ Looking at his watch, he slung the duffle bag across his body and went straight up into the trees.

_Pier Sixty - Evening_

Otto grinned as he traversed a long hallway with Roderick alongside him. It was absolutely brilliant. Since he no longer had to deal with that meddling Spiderman, he’d had time to endear himself to a _few_ of those who were powerful in this city. To combat the issues of superpowered beings rampaging in the city, the man formerly known as the villainous Doc Ock had become a local hero. His octobots had traveled far and wide, easily dispatching foes. He had been given a tentative pardon in the last month due to his heroism in the past few months. His health had also been taken into consideration, and he was allowed to serve his sentence on more or less – house arrest. He’d taken the time to move his operation fully into the laboratory under the Kingsley Industries banner. He was in the basement of the building, which he hadn’t minded. Now, Otto never had to worry about power outages or meddling reporters trying to spy on him and uncover what he was working on. Roderick’s security was Top-Notch. There was no risk that someone would uncover anything or steal his ideas.

Roderick had been curious as to exactly what all Octavius was working on for his company, but he had turned a blind eye to monitoring all of the scientist’s actions. He didn’t want to risk his latest ‘acquisition’. With his money and Otto’s genius, he was going to be catapulted to the top in the technological field. He only knew of three projects Otto was working on, but was certain that the scientist had other plans as well. He had taken to the term ‘a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush’. There was no way that he was going to dive deep into finding out what the ailing man was doing or planning. It was better that they were both on the same side. Ever the businessman, Roderick had pulled out all of the stops for Otto’s “Unveiling”. He wore a well-fitted gray suit with a blue kerchief sticking out from his left breast pocket. There was staff under his employ here for the entirety of the event. Food had been catered from his personal chefs for this. He had to admit that he was curious as to what Otto was going to reveal.

“This all looks perfect, Roderick.” Otto spoke aloud as they moved near one of the large windows near the front doors. Unlike the businessman, he was wearing a white laboratory coat and blue slacks. He did not need to _pretend_ to be of importance. “I didn’t think you would go to this extent.” Otto chose his words carefully. Time was gradually ticking down, and he needed to remain on the businessman’s good side. He knew Roderick always preferred to have his ego stroked and had worked hard to do so. “Such extravagance.” He shouldn’t have been surprised though. Roderick had not risen to where he was by remaining humble. To be powerful in this world, ambition was needed. The all-consuming desire to be rich had been ample motivation as well.

“You could expect nothing less.” Roderick buffed his nails against his suit jacket. Movers came in the door then, carrying large wooden crates with “Kingsley Industries” imprinted boldly on the front of them. “Yes… those will go over there.” Roderick instructed the movers, remembering the specifications he’d gone over with Otto about placement of the machinery. “Be careful!” He yelled, watching one of the movers nearly tip the biggest box over. The chastised man flushed red – in anger or embarrassment was anyone’s guess – and scrambled to correctly arrange the shipments. Soon, everything was going to be set out where it belonged.

“Understood.” Otto spoke simply, however his eyes seemed huge behind his thick frames. His terrifying gaze would have made many feel weak in the knees. Most notably, after the near slip of the mover, he kept his attention on the man. “I can handle it from here.” He said, lifting himself from his wheelchair with two of his mechanical arms. The mover stopped in place, afraid. Few had seen the scientist rise out of the wheelchair like that. Gradually Otto knew that his physical presence, one of vitality, was being replaced with a shell of a man. He hated his wheelchair with a passion. He remembered when he’d been able to easily walk and felt such disappointment in his own body at how it was failing him.

“Otto…” The scientist shook his head in response, and Roderick threw up his hands. What could he do to stop Octavius really? “Please be careful.” It wouldn’t do for Otto to overwhelm himself and aggravate his condition. “Remember what we learned at the last visit.” The last doctor’s visit hadn’t gone well. The damage to his heart was worsening, necessitating he take breaks during the day to rest. Roderick hadn’t been able to physically make Otto stop working, which he was sure was accelerating the scientist’s decline in health. He also knew that it was wise not to bring it up in such a public place.

In the middle of work to pry open the first box, Otto frowned at Roderick. He didn’t want to be reminded. Having someone constantly telling him that he needed rest and surgery was just – painful. “What good would tonight be if the main displays were irreparably broken?” Otto reasoned, not wanting to think more over anything aside from his exhibit. He had ulterior motives for the evening as well. The mover stepped back as Otto advanced to the boxes and began opening everything. The truth was, the scientist knew he was running out of time too. If tonight’s spectacle failed before it began…

_Pier Sixty – The ‘Unveiling’_

Peter found – much to his glee – that there was no traffic to between the park and Pier Sixty tonight. It was a neat place too, right by the water. Traffic didn’t normally bother the wallcrawler anyway, but tonight he was trying to be inconspicuous – leaping and climbing from building to building. The distance wasn’t that far from Manhattan…something he was very happy for. Less traffic on the streets meant less chances for people to see him. Securing his duffle bag in the trees, he leapt onto the roof of the popular venue. Usually, people used Pier Sixty for parties or as a wedding venue. Tonight… was supposed to be special. As he leaned down to look in one of the windows, he saw Otto speaking to various reporters. The local news stations all had a vested interest in how the scientist had made such a sudden change from supervillainy to becoming one of the most loved – and trusted men in town. There were plenty of cameras rolling and Peter even recognized Jameson there with one of his employees. He didn’t recognize the young man at all either.

“This discovery is going to change the way we view travel and its effects on the human body!” Otto stated, likely responding to a question he was posed. Ock was set on an elevated platform, with plenty of space for those around him to observe. A tall steel chamber was placed right near the stairs of the platform. Between it and Otto was a long table. A device that looked much like an oversized helmet was seated in the middle of the table. Sitting in a motorized chair, Otto backed away from the reporter to an opposite end of the table. Another reporter was there, microphone at the ready. She’d been close to stepping up on one of the stairs to speak with Otto, so he obliged by rolling closer to her instead, his seat swiveling around.

“You say that you are here to introduce us to a new method of travel,” She began. “However, we already have established methods. Automobiles and public transportation are primarily used by the masses. There are airplanes and jets. And we’ve known about technology that promises teleportation for the last two years.” Otto listened patiently. The argument almost sounded like something Roderick would have asked him. “What makes yours so different?” At that, he grinned and leaned close so she could hear what he had to say.

“My dear, the difference is what you will see tonight. I promise you; it is revolutionary. Teleportation will be a thing of the past. Nary a glimmer in memory shortly.” Seeming satisfied, the reporter stepped back away from the platform.

“Are all of these devices safe?” Another reporter asked. The man’s identity badge moved in time with his gesticulations, which were just as animated as he. “We know what you’re promising, but not the science behind it.” He stepped a bit closer to the raised platform Otto was on. “Have you had it independently studied?” Instead of the violent outbursts that Otto had been known for in the past, the scientist sighed and adjusted his glasses before responding.

“I assure you; the machines are perfectly safe.” Having slipped in the door without alerting anyone, Peter secured webbing to the section of ceiling he was attached to and got ready to swing down. It was now or never.

“He's lying!” The sudden cry astounded the news reporters. One of them cried out in surprise as a very familiar form swung overhead. Cameras turned and multiple flashes began to go off as everyone's attention was diverted from the scientist to the masked webslinger. Nearing Otto, Peter let the webbing go. Executing a perfect backflip, he landed on the ground in front of the scientist. Everyone was shocked at his quite literal ‘appearance’ out of thin air. “Whatever you're up to, Doc, I'm here to stop you.” Otto spread his hands out, flexing his gloved fingers. Using the four tentacled arms attached to him, he lifted himself out of his wheelchair.

“I swear on my honor, this device is going to help others.” The last thing he needed was _Spiderman_ of all people stopping him. Not when he was so close.

“As an ex-jailbird?” Spiderman shook his head. “It's a shame really... Having to trick others to fall into your traps.” Otto kept his gazed fixed on Spiderman as he ‘walked’ closer. Between them was the Muxponder. The younger hero was backing away from Otto, unsure what the scientist had up his sleeves. Then, he noticed the man had a remote in his left hand. Peter stopped backing away. He was being _herded_ in that direction. Without warning, Spiderman found himself having to dodge when Otto attacked with one of those arms. It wasn't an outright assault. It was as if the scientist was trying to shove him in a direction that Peter did not want to go into.

The reporters and other media personnel began fleeing the area as the fight broke out. Kept safely below the surface at first, Otto felt his anger beginning to boil over as his hard work fell apart before him. His goal had _not_ been to have an encounter with Spiderman. His teeth began to grind together, the tendons in his hands flexing. This was going to be the last time he had to deal with this meddling pest! He purposefully lifted both hands, pressing a button on the remote.

Alarm bells suddenly went off in Peter’s head as Otto pressed the remote. An attack was coming, but from where? All at once, Peter felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. Against his better judgement, he leapt towards Otto. His leap wasn't as far as he had hoped, as he felt his feet being dragged right from under himself. He wasn’t sure, but he knew that something behind him had awakened. Aiming at the ceiling then, he fired the web shooter. Feeling when webbing met its target, he grasped it and yanked hard. The force used pulled him up and over only for him to come down and kick Octavius in the back. The impact caused the scientist to drop the remote. Despite the fragility of his dying body, Otto struggled to grab it with his left hand, his reach not enough. The remote bounced twice away from him only to be drawn right to the open cylinder that Spiderman had just been standing in front of.

_That thing is manipulating gravity…_ The webcrawler realized. Or _something_ was at work. The sleek remote continued to be pulled to the open door.

“No...” Otto yelled, digging two of his robotic arms into the ground and shoving himself toward to try and grab the remote, sinking his robotic ‘arms’ into the platform to hold himself in place. Spider webbing shot right past him and grabbed it before he did. Angered, he looked up in alarm to see Spiderman holding the remote. “Give that to me, Spider!”

“I don't think that's the best ide--” Before he could refuse, Otto had launched himself up at Spiderman to engage him. Suddenly ripped out of the air, Spiderman found himself slammed right into the ground by Otto’s robotic arms. Once, then twice. The wooden platform had shattered in places from the impact, shards of wood flying everywhere. Otto leaned down over the fallen hero. He applied the extra weight and the pressure of his tentacled arms on the young hero, listening with satisfaction as more of the platform fractured. Lifting Spiderman once more, he forcefully slammed his nemesis into the body-shaped indent left behind.

“Drop it, Spider...” Otto snarled, trying to squeeze the masked hero. Spiderman unerringly opened his hands as he struggled to keep himself from being smothered to death by two of the tentacles. The remote had been crushed inside his grip. “You fool! You don't know what you've done!” The reality of the situation they were in overcame him and he picked Spiderman up, slamming him back and forth into the platform. He broke through it, damaging the floor underneath. “Now there is no way to stop it!” _It doesn’t matter anymore._ There was an ominous hum coming from the chamber as the quantum fueled security field installed inside of it became unstable. Otto felt his heart beginning to beat irregularly, the sudden pain a few seconds later slapping him with the reality of the situation. He had to get that new body...today. The one he had in mind wasn’t even in the building now.

Spiderman moaned from where he lay, seemingly clinging to consciousness. “Never...” Otto swallowed. “N-Nevermind.” A body just happened to be available, and he wouldn’t have to find someone ‘suitable’ for this. He had never tested his new inventions on a living being, but there was no time for it now. Otto lowered himself to the damaged floor on weakened legs and grabbed the Muxponder. Turning to Spiderman, he stalked over to the hero, intently. “My new body will be a wonderful one.” He muttered. “Young and strong.” He reached down to place the device on Spiderman's head, only to have the hero grab his wrists.

“Aww, but I don't want my present now!” Two of Otto's tentacle arms grabbed Spiderman by his forearms and forcefully splayed his arms apart, lifting him up off the ground. That broke Spiderman’s hold on the scientist’s wrists. Otto’s two other metal arms elevated him to Spiderman’s level, extending upwards.

“You, don't have a choice.” Otto was panting, sweat running down his face. The webslinger struggled to twist himself away. Otto smiled in triumph as he reached up to place the Muxponder on Spiderman's head, fastening it in place. His time was at hand! All he had to do was enter the commands… Realizing his wrists were free, even if his arms were not, Peter aimed his webshooters at the wall behind them and gave the webs a hard yanked when he felt the webbing connect.

Otto noticed too late that both of them had left the ground entirely. He lost his grip on the helmet as Spiderman hurled both of them headfirst towards the opposite wall, then abruptly changed the trajectory with his webs, both of them hurtling towards the open chamber door at terrifying speed. The security field fully collapsed on itself; the former white mist inside having taken on a swirling and sparkling pattern often seen in space. It had extended out of the chamber, much like a thick fog. Otto started screaming, in a mixture of fear and pain, having lost his glasses during the sudden flight. His bloodshot eyes stared into Spiderman's. The scientist grabbed his chest, the veins bulging in his eyes before he began choking, blood bubbling up from his mouth. His eyes began to glaze over. Without their master consciously controlling them, the metal arms relaxed their grip and let Spiderman go.

Startled and frightened of what was happening to the Doc, Spiderman tried to slow them down before impact. With his right hand, he grabbed onto the front of Otto's shirt, the left firing spiderwebbing towards the opposite wall. He watched it, almost as if it were traveling in slow motion. He wasn't going to make it. He felt Otto’s body jerk, and as he looked down, his eyes grew wide as the new 'field' began to dissolve Otto. Electricity surged and rippled around both of them, tearing through the scientist's chest. Thankfully – the ‘former’ villain was unaware of this…or so he hoped.

“No. Please! No!” Peter yelled at the top of his lungs as Otto Octavious dissipated through his fingers, like fine dust. “No!” The electricity overloaded the chamber, and to all that were present outside the building, it exploded – the shockwave shattering all of the nearby windows. Peter felt himself without warning hurtling through a shining blue corridor, electricity swirling around the device strapped to his head. He jerked; his muscles contracting in response to the stimulus. Suddenly, he found himself being spun around. Everything was going faster and faster until all he saw was bright light. It was so blinding, that he lost the ability to see in front of him.

When his vision returned, the masked hero abruptly found himself hurtling towards the ground. His words were choked as he noticed on his descent that there were no buildings or skyscrapers to be found. Peter could see his own demise coming. _Is this what Ock felt like?_ The question came unbidden. Where was he? How could _nothing_ be there?! His athletic body twisted around, and he flailed in the air, trying to slow his plunge. There was no time for him to build a parachute! No time for -- ! He was **out** of time.

_Is this what death is like?_ He wondered as he slammed into the unyielding ground and saw only darkness.

_Pier Sixty – Present Day_

Silence had dominated the area for several minutes before the sounds of police sirens could be heard in the vicinity. Soon… Several of the news reporters were talking amongst themselves. Some of them had blankets wrapped around their bodies. Jameson was seated in on a gurney, drinking from a cup of water offered to him. Some of those closest to the building had sustained injuries from flying glass. Fortunately for him, all he sustained was a cut on his forehead. He couldn’t believe what he’d seen. Spiderman and Doctor Octavius fighting – as if no time had passed at all since they’d last seen each other. Was he a fool? Were all of them…fools? He peered over at the other reporters. Some of them were actually interviewing _each other_ about what they’d seen. Was the good doctor trying to deceive all of them? Was Spiderman gone for good now? What was he going to put on the front of the Bugle? The young man he’d had with him today was speaking to a police officer, a camera hanging around his neck.

In the wreckage of the platform, nothing was salvageable…save melted metal. The table, cylinder and even the doctor’s chair had all been destroyed in the explosion. There was going to be an investigation… _Who’s going to run the story first?_ Jameson nearly jumped off the gurney. He had to get it done. He could see the headline in the Daily Bugle the next day. _“SPIDERMAN VERSUS OCTAVIUS – THE END”_ Ever focused on work, the older man looked to the EMT treating his forehead. “What are the chances that I can head off?” The EMT paused, blinking a little. Then, she smiled faintly.

“Soon enough, sir. You’ll need to head to the hospital for stitches.” Her words broached no argument. “Then, if everything checks out, they’ll send you home.” Sighing, Jameson nodded.

“Get my assistant over here.” He pointed to the young man who was still exchanging words with the police. Off her offended look, Jameson softened his tone. “Please. I need to talk to him for a few minutes before we leave. It’s for work.” Understanding filled her eyes, and she turned to walk over to get the young man’s attention. J Jameson sighed. If he couldn’t run the story himself, he was going to have to trust the kid to do it.

_Somewhere_

Water splashed out of the faucet, swirling down the drain. A young brunette cupped both hands under the water and ducked her head down to splash her face. The shock was enough to rouse her flagging energy reserves. Coughing a little, she grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and wiped her face. The stark white of the tile walls around her seemed to suck away what little joy she had in her life. She hated being here. Straightening up, she adjusted the employee shirt she wore. The brand logo for Applebee’s was on the left breast of the black shirt. She moaned a little at the slight headache that still lingered. Five hours still remained in her work shift. _Can I make it tonight?_ She stared at her reflection.

Brown eyes rimmed with dark circles stared back at her. She was so _tired_. Her long black hair was gathered up into a messy ponytail. Feeling a little dizzy, she gripped the rim of the sink with one hand, pressing the back of her left hand against her forehead. _Not good._ Just as she was trying to consider taking off early, the bathroom door flew open. She jumped physically, startled. “Jess! Come on! We’re getting swamped out here!” Her coworker called to her. Instead of responding, she turned away from the sink. Stumbling a little, her suddenly wide-eyed coworker grabbed her by the shoulders. “Hold up! Are you okay?” Instead of responding, she smoothly pulled herself free. The movement made the dizziness worse, but she tried to ignore it.

“You said we’re swamped, Becca.” Jess swallowed hard, using her hands to steady herself against the doorframe. Hyper-aware of her breathing, she tried to steady herself. “I j-just needed a moment is all.” Concerned green eyes looked at her. “Promise. Let’s go, huh?” Pushing away from the door carefully, she was happy to find that her sense of balance was back. She still was unprepared for the loud noise near the front. She grabbed her notepad and pen and looked to Becca. “What’s happening tonight? Isn’t it usually slow?” Becca shrugged, blowing a bubble the gum she was chewing. It was a nervous habit.

“Some big game just finished up. The winning team came in.” She rolled her eyes. Jessica let out a short burst of laughter. Just what they both needed tonight!

_It’s not so bad…_ Jess thought to herself. “Should make the time pass faster!” A sudden yell was heard across the restaurant, followed by the sound of a crash and a slew of profanity. Jess pulled a face. As bad as she was feeling, she did _not_ want to deal with that. Noticing and seeming to understand, Becca spoke up.

“Don’t worry, Jessica. Just take some of the orders up front. I’ll go see what happened.” On the way, she grabbed a dustpan and broom.

Shaking her head lightly at Becca’s retreating back, Jess plastered a smile on the face and moved to serve the newer patrons sitting down. “Good evening,” She began. “How can I—” The seated woman didn’t give her time to finish. She’d actually put her hand up to silence Jess.

“I’m not in the mood for small talk.” The customer held up her menu and proceeded to look at it. “Don’t say anything. Just…stand there and wait for my order.” Blinking a little and starting to feel annoyed, Jess cleared her throat lightly.

“I’ll be back ma’am.” Not waiting for the customer to complain, Jess went to the very next table for their order. “Sir…how can I help you?” The young man there smiled and was about to respond when the woman from the previous table stalked over to his table.

“How rude!” She yelled at the top of her lungs. “I wasn’t done giving you my order! How hard is it for you to follow simple instructions, hmm?” Jess bit her bottom lip hard, trying to contain her emotions. “All you have to do is wait for me to give you my order! What part of that didn’t you understand?!” Jess didn’t want to get upset. She looked away from the yelling woman. “Just what I thought! If you weren’t so stupid and useless, you wouldn’t be working here!”

A kernel of pain began to grow in the young waitress. This customer didn’t know her at all and was treating her like she was no one. _That’s what I wanted, right?_ _Anonymity? I should have been careful for what I wished for._ She mocked herself mentally.

“Excuse you!” The man at the table replied, rising up out of his seat. “Just who do you think you are?!” Jess ducked her head down, visibly uncomfortable with the exchange. She had to get out of here…

“This is none of your business!” The woman responded hotly. “This is between me and this little twit here!” She got even closer to Jess, the young woman clasping her notepad to her chest and stepping away. She needed to put distance between herself and the customer before something bad happened. “Come back here! I want to see what your name is!” Now, Jessica felt her heart beginning to pound. Just what was this woman going to do to her? Groaning, she grasped the side of her head…the pain getting worse. She swung between irritation and fear. Irritating at the woman and fear of what was happening…and how powerless she was to stop it. She hated feeling so helpless. Unsteadily, she made her way back to the bathrooms. Becca was near the bar, and noticed her immediately. She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by the rude customer…who was still following Jess. “I don’t take kindly to this kind of treatment!” The woman fairly screeched, her face red.

Jess on the other hand was beginning to look sick. Intervening, Becca stepped around her colleague and straightened up to her full height. She was half a foot taller than Jess – that was more than enough to deal with the customer head on. “How can I help you, ma’am?” She maneuvered her body in the way to block Jess from view. She wasn’t able to find out anything from the customer, hearing more shouts near the front of the restaurant. Even the customer was distracted. The appearance of the man at the door had left everyone shaken. From the bright red boots he wore, all the way past the blue tights and to the recognizable spider emblem emblazoned on his chest. He was grasping a burnt helmet that had seen better days in his left hand and the right half of his mask was missing.

“El diablo!” One of the patrons there exclaimed in shock. Everyone had watched the funeral last month. They all knew that the man standing there was dead. Or was he?

_Applebee’s – Front Entrance_

The confusion that he felt after entering the Applebee’s was profound. People shrank away from him as if… _Just where am I?_ Peter wondered in ever growing alarm. Why were people acting as if he shouldn’t be there? Yes, he wasn’t supposed to be right _there_ , but judging by the reactions…

“Hey!” A young woman with dark brown hair and green eyes met him as he walked past the people seated at tables. “What are you doing here? How is it even possible?” The general atmosphere was thick with tension. Not for the first time, Peter Parker’s presence was met with suspicion and fear. This time, he hadn’t done anything to warrant it. At least…he didn’t think so.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “I came in for something to eat.” It was the only thing he could think of off the top of his head, and he was hungry. Thankfully, he had his wallet on him. Otherwise, he would have some serious problems. The waitress was about to say something. She looked away from him a moment, her eyes rounding as she noticed something he couldn’t. Darting over, she gripped the shoulder of another dark-haired woman. The woman was clinging to the wall just past the bar, bent over at the waist. The waitress ducked down and carefully pulled the shorter woman’s arm over her shoulder. To help her balance.

“I’ll be back.” She called back to him. She had to shake herself. It didn’t make any sense at all. He had the same eyes though.

“What’s happening?” Jess asked, her vision swimming. The floor was moving, or so it appeared to be. As they headed to the bathroom, Becca paused a moment…trying to gather her thoughts. It was simply too fantastical, and she doubted that Jessica would believe her.

“An imposter.” She stated blithely. She knew how hard it had been for Jess when the real Spiderman had died. Her friend had disappeared from work for two weeks! At the time, she’d had a lot of questions, but hadn’t spoken out of respect for her friend. What she could see of the man’s face had been consistent though…mostly. Except that beard. How was it possible? Everyone had seen his funeral broadcast on the television!

“Is that all?” Jess asked. “Ohh my head…” She moaned, _hearing_ her pulse pounding in her ears. Her stomach had begun to churn. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she groaned and pulled both of them to the bathroom stall. Scrambling inside, she dropped to her knees and vomited profusely. She half missed the bowl on the way to it. Shaky hands grasped the cold plastic of the seat. She hadn’t been able to even lift the seat. Tears followed after that, a heartbroken sob wrenching its way from her throat. It was becoming too much – the constant pressure and never-ending stress. She couldn’t continue on like this. She felt a hand on her back then, rubbing soothing circles to comfort her. Becca slipped into the stall with her, offering support. Jess felt her hair being pulled back as she continued to heave.

“I think you need to go home tonight, Jess.” Becca said quietly, once she was sure that Jess was done. She helped her sick coworker stand and reach the sink. “I’m worried about you.” Jess shook her head, not wanting to speak just then. “You need to go to the doctor, Jessica.” Becca studied the petite brunette as she rinsed her mouth out. “How many times is it now this week? How often are you getting sick?” Becca started counting in her head, fortunately missing the alarm that suddenly filled Jess’ eyes.

“It’s just this headache…” Jess managed to croak and rinsed her mouth out again to remove the bitter taste of bile. She let out a disgustingly deep and wet belch then, and found herself dry heaving into the sink for an uncomfortable moment immediately afterwards. She clung to the sides of it for dear life, feeling herself lose muscular control in certain places. She squeezed her legs tightly together then, worrying about more than losing the contents of her stomach. Thankfully, the sickness finally lost its grip, and she felt calm returning. Again, she gathered water in her hands to splash on her face. The waitress always got so upset when people were screaming and yelling in her face at work. Who wouldn’t be? To her though, the effort to control her own reactions made her physically ill. She still looked a bit ashen and green around the gills. Soundlessly, Becca handed her a few paper towels so she could wipe her face off. “N-Nothing more.”

“Jess, you’re going home.” Shaking her head again in denial, Jessica tried to straighten up on her own, but she still felt weak. “No complaints. I’ll clock both of us out for the night.” She studied Jessica carefully. “Can you stand alright?” Jess lowered her head, shaking a little. She felt Becca prop her up again, this time grasping her by both the arm and her pants. As both of them left the bathroom and headed back to the front, the strange man was still standing there. “You’re still here?!” And he was in fact standing in the same spot. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his neck. “Never mind. I don’t have time for posers tonight.”

“What are you talking about, Becca?” Jess lifted her head then. Her eyes widened then, in recognition. Peter had a very similar reaction.

_It can’t be…_ He thought to himself, jaw dropping. _But…what is she doing here?_

“You... You don’t have _any_ respect, do you?!” Gaining strength somehow, Jessica straightened up and pulled away from Becca. Now, she was more sullen than sick, a bright spark of fury building as she approached the half-masked man. “How dare you come in here after everything’s happened and try to play such a cruel joke on us!” _On me…_ She mentally added as an afterthought.

“Jessica!” Becca hurried over to her wayward friend, uncertain what she was going to do. She didn’t want Jess to get hurt. Before she could reach her though, Jessica had hauled off and slapped the man full force.

Peter’s eyes widened as he saw a very familiar green glint in those brown eyes before her hand impacted his cheek. The blow almost rocked him off his feet, and it was a genuine fear now that she’d knocked more than a few teeth loose. Managing to stay upright by sheer will, Peter turned back to face her, the exposed side of his face rapidly beginning to bruise. His lip was also split from the force of the blow, blood beginning to stream from the wound. She was panting, realization of what she’d done suddenly suffusing her features.

She’d just slapped a man who _looked_ like Spiderman.

She’d just done this while at work and still on the clock. The burst of energy fled her, dread sinking in. She paled, beginning to shake again.

“…Nice to see you too, Jen.” Peter uttered before he had to jump forward to catch her as her legs suddenly gave way.

_Sometime later._

“Seriously, we don’t need your help!” The world was a dark and murky place for Jessica. It just wasn’t her day. The persistent sickness clung to her like a cloak, and her headaches were not making things any better. She did something profoundly idiotic too, but couldn’t remember right away what it was.

“Well, you have it anyway!” A male voice responded. Her body jerked a little as she recognized the timber of the speaker. Was that _who_ she thought it was?

“Put her down!” She heard Becca yelling at – who?

“Sure, as soon as I get her into the ambulance.” There was a pause. “Coming?”

“You bet I am! I don’t trust you. I don’t care how much like - him - you are. You can’t be him!” Jess’ world was swallowed up by darkness again.

_The Daily Bugle – Present_

Today, J Jameson was a proud man. Scarred, but proud. The sales of the Bugle had increased exponentially as his paper was the first one to announce the demise of Spiderman. Ever since then, the phone had been ringing off the hook. The older man always claimed to be team player, but he wasn’t foolish when it came to a good story. This one was one of the best. His assistant had hustled to get the paper set for the next day. As shocking as the sudden loss of Spiderman was, the concurrent loss of the city’s newest hero was going to pose problems. Villains that had been kept at bay by the octobots no longer had anything holding them back. They were going to have to call for reinforcements. He wondered which branch of the military was going to be heading to New York. Squeezing his left hand into a fist, Jameson bit one of his knuckles. In the last two days, there had been reports of a steady increase in violence in the city again.

“Coffee, sir?” Breaking his reverie, he smiled in gratitude as Ashley handed him a freshly brewed coffee from the local coffee shop. “You’ve had several messages come in.” She looked through the notepad she was holding. “The ID, True Brazen and Beatz Biz have called for an interview.” Jameson perked up at her words. “As the _first_ and main person on the scene, they want your take on what happened at the Pier.”

Jameson grinned.

_Elsewhere_

Peter and Becca sat at opposite sides of Jess’ hospital bed. Peter was busy holding an icepack to his cheek and Becca was torn between contacting what few friends Jessica had and keeping an eye on the stranger. They had been there for a while, although Peter had left for a little over an hour to find less conspicuous attire. The jeans he picked up from the thrift store thankfully fit, but the gray t-shirt he bought was baggy. He managed to snag a cheap pair of sneakers and a backpack at another location and hurried back to the hospital. Thankfully, he was able to get back to Jess’ room. Peter stretched a little in his seat, freezing when he noticed that Becca was watching him like a hawk. “S…Sorry.” Peter continued to cradle the icepack to his face. His gaze drifted over to his long-term friend. _What happened to you?_ He wondered. He scooted a little bit closer to her and held her hand.

“What are you—”

“Please stop.” Peter responded, lifting his gaze to Becca. “She’s my friend. She’s important.” He looked back to Jess. “She’s a hero too. What is she doing here?” Becca looked up from her phone, both thumbs hovering while she worked on a text message.

“Excuse me?” Maybe she’d heard him wrong.

“She’s a hero. She’s one of our own. What on _earth_ is she doing working there?” Before Becca could respond to that odd piece of information, Jess spoke.

“Mmm…where am I?” She mumbled, her eyes slowly opening. Peter stood up, placing his ice pack on the hospital table.

“Jen! You’re awake!” Then, he gave her the biggest smile. The creeping fear inching across her face in reply was stifling. “I know I’m not your favorite person right now apparently, but you’re in the hospital.” She remained tongue-tied. “The doctor will be back soon to tell us how you’re doing.” Her eyes rounded, and she tried to bolt out of bed. Only for Peter to hold her down. “Whoa wait! Wait a minute!” He had to struggle to keep her in place. She looked pretty small, but she was stronger than she looked.

“I want to go home now.” She said. “Right now.”

“But Jess,” Her coworker and friend piped up, announcing her presence. “You have to be cleared first before you go.” She nodded at Peter. “I’m not leaving you alone with him either.” Then she pointed at him. “So you’re stuck with both of us, buddy!”

“Hey!” Peter exclaimed, insulted. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Jen like that!” Becca shook her head.

“Jen! Jen! All you say is Jen! That’s not what her name is though, is it Jessica?” Instead of speaking right away, Jess sunk back into the pillows. She suddenly looked smaller. “Jess?”

“Um…can you get us a coffee?” Off Becca’s incredulous stare, Jess nodded. “I’ll be fine. He can’t – Err…He won’t do anything to me.” Jess looked squarely at Peter then. “Right?”

“R-Right.” With both of them looking in her direction after that, Becca let out a sound of disgust and got out of her seat.

“I’ll get myself one too. Maybe I’ll wake up from this strange nightmare where dead people are suddenly alive again!” She flailed her arms and stalked out of the hospital room.

“Umm…” Jess began.

“Uhh…” Peter said at the same time. Both of them stopped and shared a strained laugh. “You first.” Swallowing hard, Jess squeezed her eyes shut tightly and rubbed her eyes with one hand.

“Are you… Peter? Peter Parker?” The question seemed strange, but he nodded. “You’re not supposed to be alive.” Her eyes opened then, and he could see tears pooling. “You left everyone.” She couldn’t stop the crack in her voice then. He lightly squeezed her hand in a show of support. “You left…us. I couldn’t…handle it.” She failed to offer even a shaky smile. “You know my track record with disappointments…but this time, I couldn’t run.” Now, his brows furrowed in confusion. “You forgot that quickly, Peter?” His mouth opened right as the doctor stepped into the room.

The man was older, possibly middle aged. Most of his hair was black, save the patches of silver at his temples. He offered a friendly smile to his patient.

“Ah, good to see you’re awake Miss Smith.” Then, he glanced at Peter. “Would you prefer we speak privately?” If possible, the question made Jess pale even further. Peter was about to say something when he felt her squeezing his hand. Worried, he moved closer to her and waved a hand in front of her face. She irritably batted him away but didn’t let his hand go.

“Ah… Whatever you have to say, doctor, I can handle it.” He puffed his chest out in an exaggerated way, noting how the doctor rolled his eyes in response. “I’m her friend.” Deciding for a moment and looking between the two of them, the doctor flipped a page on her medical chart.

“You’re a bit low on potassium and electrolytes. We’re currently treating you for mild dehydration. If what I’ve heard about all of the vomiting is true, that could explain it.” Peter nodded. That was good news, right? They could treat that with fluids and rest. “Your urine sample came up positive, but I’m sure you knew that. So, we did an ultrasound on the baby to see how it was doing.” Peter froze in place at those words. “The amniotic sac is intact and the heartbeat is steady. What’s happened hasn’t harmed it.” Peter wasn’t sure he’d heard right. The doctor didn’t seem nearly as enthusiastic as he should have. “You are a little malnourished, Miss Smith. You need rest, plenty of fluids and food.” He walked over to her bedside and checked one of the monitors.

“I need to ensure that the baby’s monitor is in place.” Conceding, Jess looked away as the doctor tugged up part of her gown to check on a strap around her lower abdomen. Satisfied with what he saw, he made a note on the chart and checked the monitor’s readout again. He tucked the gown back down and pulled her blanket up a little more.

“Jen?” Both of Peter’s eyes widened, despite the bruising. “What…” He wasn’t certain what the doctor was talking about until he saw that strap. He wasn’t sure what he should or even – could say to her. _I have a feeling that I’m far from home._ He never remembered Jen ever talking about settling down and having kids…but here she was – proving him wrong!

“We’ll keep you overnight for observation and then you can go home.” Saying nothing else, the doctor left the room quickly, returning to his rounds.

“Jen?” Peter spoke again, moving into her range of view. Brown eyes met his and her free hand idly picked at the blanket covering her legs. “Is what he said true? I—” Jess’ eyes narrowed. Of all the stupid things he could have asked.

“Of course, it is. How could you forget?” Peter shook his head. “What is this? First you somehow didn’t die and now you forget that we were together?!” Alarm bells were going off in the webslingers head and it had nothing to do with his spider senses. “I don’t believe this…” Pulling her hand away from his, she crossed her arms.

“I can’t say that I know what happened, but I can help you.” Her gaze narrowed at him even more. A few things were beginning to click into place in Peter’s head. He was somewhere far from home. Jennifer was still Jennifer, but wasn’t? That was confusing. On top of that, she stated that they had a relationship when all he remembered was getting swat on occasion when she didn’t approve of his wisecracks. If anything, Jennifer Walters swatted like she wanted to kill him, mainly when she was angry with him. It didn’t make sense! None of it did.

Not unless… _That helmet that the Doc had…_ Had he been sent to a different universe, maybe?

“This is ridiculous. You’re insane…Suddenly you care? I can't believe you would show your face after what you said.” Peter was perplexed.

“About what?" In response, she pointed at her midsection with both index fingers. His mouth gaped a moment. _Oh, right…_ He really didn’t belong here. _Oh no, I hope I didn’t get into a fight with the father._ That was the last gritty thing that he needed to figure out. _Here_ , Peter Parker was dead. He wasn’t that Parker though.

“What do you think, doofus? Your child! You told me you didn’t want the baby!" She watched curiously as confusion filled his face. He suddenly flushed red in realization and then paled. He’d made a baby with the She Hulk. Wait…did he?

_I can’t believe I had it in me…I mean him! I can’t believe he had it in him!_ “That... I did not do that." One look in her eyes warned him, he’d made a big mistake. _Oops! Wrong thing to say._ Against better judgement, Jess looked like she was trying to rip out her IV line to pummel him. “Would you believe I'm from a closely parallel universe to this one, and I didn't actually do any of the things you think I did?” She paused at his words, and he offered a timid smile. This of course, had the opposite effect than what he was looking for.

“What kind of an idiot do you think I am?” Jessica snarled, green light flashing in her eyes. Her temperament was at current unpredictable and very prickly. She felt so raw from her earlier encounter with him at work. A slight like this wasn’t going to go well for him. Thankfully, she’d left the IV line alone.

Fidgeting and inching towards the door, his hand tightly gripping the handle of his backpack, Peter responded. “I feel like I should have my lawyer present before answering that.” Jessica’s brows pinched together tightly. She distinctly remembered representing him in court.

“I _am_ a lawyer you ignoramus!” _I’m your lawyer…_ She wanted to say, but hesitated. Why add fuel to the fire?

“Um, and this is where I exit.” He choked out before ducking behind the door. He was ten feet down the hall before he stopped. _Wait…what am I doing?_ He couldn’t just leave her, the mother of his – er – the mother of someone’s unborn child. He wouldn’t feel right. _And that’s just what alternate me did…_ Maybe it was a good thing that alternate-him had died. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes. He saw Becca returning down the hallway from another direction and hurried back into Jessica’s room.

Still stinging from his disappearance, Jess choked out a question when he suddenly reappeared. “…What are you doing here?” Holding up both hands, Peter swallowed, thinking quickly.

“Before you – uhh – hurt me, let me explain again. I’m not from around here. Really. I was in the middle of a fight with the Doc.” He shook his head, omitting what had happened to the scientist. The memory was far too fresh. “I’m not leaving you…I just worried for my own health and wellbeing.” Jess lowered her gaze a moment, fiddling again with the blanket. “I’m worried about you too now and your – our – umm…” Letting out a humorless laugh, Jessica effectively quieted him.

“What am I going to do?” She asked, weakly. “This entire situation is a mess.” Her eyes drank in the sight of him, the lids heavy. “I can’t just stop working.” Her voice sounded so distressed that it broke his heart. “I need money to stay in my crummy apartment.” Feeling torn, because all of this was a bonafide dilemma he’d somehow gotten sucked into, he returned to the side of Jess’ bed. He pulled the chair right up to her and sat down again, taking both of her hands.

“Let me take care of you.” Her eyes were filled with fear of the future, of the unknown. “I also have no idea where I am and no place to stay. So this works out for both of us.” He grinned and shrugged at her irritated stare. “We can be in the puddle together, huh?” The brunette rolled her eyes and Peter let out a laugh. Looking at him closely, Jessica reached up and touched his beard. Even beaten and bruised, looking at him again – from so close up – made her heart do a little flip in her chest. She ached so badly to kiss him, but held back. This wasn’t the Peter that she’d known for so many years.

_No… Not my Peter._ She decided. _Better. This is a much better Peter._ He wanted to help her with the baby and had been so gentle with her.

“This is new…” She remarked. The Peter she knew was vain and shunned the idea of having any facial hair. The man had even kept his eyebrows and head shaved bald. Peter lowered his head so she could cup his cheek. She felt him smile against her palm. Her eyes began to fill with tears again, but this time they spilled down her cheeks. It was him but not him.

“Not really.” He murmured. Both of them had become so engrossed in one another that they didn’t notice Becca at the door. She stood there, watching as the two locked eyes. Something major had happened while she went to get coffee, but she wasn’t sure what it was. She also had stopped in the cafeteria to get food for all of them. They were speaking to each other in an undertone, and before things became too uncomfortable, she loudly cleared her throat. Both of them jumped, but didn’t pull apart.

“Coffee and sandwiches.” She stated, walking into the room. She set the beverages on the bedside table, and put the food on the hospital table. “I know you want some of this caffeine goodness, right Jess?” Her friend smiled, but it was wobbly.

_How is she going to handle all of this?_ Jess wondered, nervously, wiping betraying streaks of moisture from her cheeks.

“Would water be better?” Peter asked. He actually stood up and carefully fluffed Jess’ pillows, pointedly ignoring Becca’s expression.

“Y…Yeah, Pete. Grab it for me, would you—” She bit her own tongue before she called him _sweetie_. The desire had been there, and he was so close. But _no_ , this was not the Peter Parker that she knew. Had it been, she knew he wouldn’t have been anywhere near her. She had to remind herself of that. Hearing the ache in her voice and understanding, Peter nodded and went looking for a vending machine. Once he was out of the room, Becca turned to Jess.

“What’s going on between you two?” Becca shook her head. “I leave the room for ten minutes and you both are all over each other!” Jess looked offended, her cheeks puffing as if she was about to say something foul. Then she just gave up and stretched out on the bed.

“I wasn’t – we weren’t – Look… Pete is a friend. It’s safe.” This next part she was not looking forward to revealing. “And Jen…is me. It’s my name. Jennifer.” Becca blinked, not believing what she was hearing. “I’m…” Jen swallowed, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “I’m actually a licensed criminal attorney. I don’t…” Her gaze was sad. “I can’t work in my field right now. Not with the types of clients I have.” Blinking away more tears and failing miserably, Jennifer wiped at her eyes once more. The silence following her pronouncement stretched for a long time. Becca started to wonder about her friend. Just how well did she know Jess—Jen? Her name was Jennifer, right?

_Just who is she?_ Becca worriedly chewed on her bottom lip. _Is she on the run from someone?_ She’d known the brunette for two months and thought she knew her well enough. At work, they’d become fast friends. They shared everything. _Well not everything…_ Becca thought with a frown. She knew that Jennifer always turned her down whenever she asked her to go out on the town. Worry seemed to always follow her, but Jennifer had never voiced a word of complaint. She was very hard working and always put in extra effort for their customers. _But a lawyer?_ That was hard to swallow. _What is she hiding from?_ Becca doubted she’d ever have real answers to those questions. How could she honestly trust Jennifer if the woman hadn’t even been honest about her name?

“I’ve got water and it’s cold!” Peter stated plainly, walking back into the room. He noted the silence, but chose not to acknowledge it. He uncapped the bottle before handing it to Jen.

“I can open the bottle, Pete.” He shrugged. “It’s not considered hard work.”

“I know. The doctor said you need to take it easy though.” _That_ gained Becca’s attention.

“I still need to work.” Jen insisted. Peter returned to his seat, smoothly sliding one of the sandwiches towards her, pointedly. He picked up his abandoned ice pack and held it against his face again.

“I’ll get a job.” Jennifer rolled her eyes. She knew what he was doing. Her stomach was beginning to growl though, and she eagerly grabbed the sandwich. “You should have seen what I did back in Pennsylvania.” That piqued her interest, but she wasn’t going to give up her food to talk to him. “Cut wood for a family on their farm.” Sulking a bit in her seat, Becca grabbed her own sandwich and began eating. The two of them were _so_ strange. She hadn’t been gone that long, and they were like best friends now. “It wasn’t so bad. Helped me get my mind off things.”

A light tap was heard on the open door before a smiling woman in scrubs entered. She had a pretty mocha complexion; her dark-brown hair was braided and pinned back in place. “How are you feeling, Miss Smith?” Mouth full, Jennifer offered a closed mouth smile and gave a thumbs up. “Good to hear! I came in to check your IV line. You’re supposed to get two bags of saline and electrolytes before you leave here. We also have you an on anti-emetic to help with the vomiting.” Jennifer nodded, swallowing her mouthful. “If you need help getting to the bathroom, the call button is right next to you in bed.” She was carrying a chart and carefully checked the reading on the monitors, writing everything down.

“Thank you.” Peter chimed in, carefully reading the badge. He was hovering just a little, curious to see what was happening to his friend. “Thank you, Miss Collins.” Looking at Jennifer then, he scooted her water closer. “Don’t forget to drink.” He murmured softly. She didn’t reply, but she did start taking sips of water between bites. Peter had hoped that Jennifer wouldn’t ask him to help her in the bathroom. His face reddened. If he was going to help his friend for the long haul, he was going to have to do things that he hadn’t thought of before. The flush deepened. The nurse laughed at that.

“No need to be so shy! Just call me Kaitlin.” She replied. Beaming, she watched how attentive the injured young man seemed to be with her patient. Looking to Jennifer, she asked with a smile. “First time fathers are the best, huh?” Her attention returned to the chart to write down something she saw on one of the monitors, completely missing how Jennifer had frozen in place. “Everything looks good so far, Miss Smith.” For a few more minutes, she continued to scribble down some readings. Gradually, Jennifer relaxed, but knew that Becca’s eyes had doubled in size at the nurse’s statement. Ignoring that, she returned to eating her sandwich. “I’ll be back in a few hours to set up your second drip, Miss Smith.” She looked at Peter. “Don’t worry, papa. She’s in good hands!” Giving the couple another smile, she left the room.

Very quietly, Peter grabbed up his sandwich and began eating before his – friend’s – friend – began to stare him down. The evening was already awkward enough as it was. Thankfully, once Jennifer had finished eating, she yawned and set the sandwich wrapper aside. Wilting a little under Peter’s stare, she took another healthy mouthful of water and curled up on her side, keeping the arm with the IV in it on her hip. “I’m so tired.” She muttered. Peter rested his chin on the railing of her bed, curling his right hand around the rail and looked at her.

“If you’re tired, then go to sleep.” Jennifer’s eyes almost closed, but she shook her head trying to fight off sleep.

“No…” She replied softly. “If I go to sleep…you’ll disappear.” Her head rolled back a little to stare at the ceiling. “You’ll be gone again…and I’ll go back to being pregnant and alone.” She blinked. “And sick…so sick. And hiding. Always hiding.” His shoulders slumped at her words, and he reached out, lightly running his fingers through her hair. She turned her head, locking eyes with him, her own were reddish.

_Had she cried over him?_ It was the first time Peter had considered the possibility. “Not this time,” He said with determination. “You’ll wake up tomorrow and get discharged home and then we’ll see how we can take care of you.” At that, Peter looked over to where Becca was sitting. “Right?” Her green eyes were bright with tears, but she nodded in agreement. She’d had no idea that Jennifer was suffering so badly. Now she felt bad for doubting her.

_-?-_

_Pst…_ The rain was coming down in torrents. It didn’t seem to faze the lone figure riding a black motorcycle. They regularly reached higher speeds that what was considered legal – even past the initial ten miles over. The road wasn’t full of too much traffic, which was in direct contrast with the daytime. Though what few drivers were on the road were unnecessarily aggressive. That didn’t bother the motorcyclist either. One driver swerved in front of them, a hand ducking out the window as they executed a rather rude gesture. Features obscured save the lower part of their face, full lips pulled up into a knowing smirk. The rider was clad entirely in black and silver. Moonlight bounced off the zipper, as one hand reached up and pulled it down again. It seemed foolish to willingly allow additional drag on the bike. Maybe that was the intention.

Loud revving was heard as the biker increased in speed and tucked limbs in closer to the bike. Weaving to the right, and then the left… They casually drifted in front of the car. With nary a word or gesture, the rider sped up further, peeling off down the road. The smile stubbornly remained in place, even as the sound of sirens suddenly rent through the air. The police. Again. _Who cares?_ The rider thought with an ever-widening grin. _They can’t follow where I go._ Leaning suddenly to the right, the motorcycle executed a very tight turn down a narrow alley. The space was slight, the area dark and small. It was absolutely perfect for someone wishing to get away, though not for the faint of heart. Indeed, the entire area could have been easily seen as abandoned if not for the lack of garbage and other assorted dredges of filth.

No matter. The rider continued down the narrow, twisting alley. The sounds of sirens grew more and more distant. Soon, the rider reached the proverbial ‘brick wall’, the entire area completely closed off. Unbothered, the rider hopped off the motorcycle, rolling it to a shadowy corner and removed the helmet. The surprisingly long strawberry-blonde locks they had fell down around narrow shoulders. Turning toward a segment of ‘wall’ next to the motorcycle, the rider held up one hand. “Initialize.” Stated a feminine but robotic voice. A long, thin pole descended from the overhanging roof next to the wall. Six inches of it at the end bent to a forty-five-degree angle and a bright red light was visible from it. The rider stood there, not fighting as the light scanned up and down their body. A ‘door’ in the wall opened. “Enter.” Said the cold, emotionless voice. Turning to retrieve the motorcycle, the rider headed through the doors.

As soon as the wheels crossed the threshold, the door clicked closed. Bright circles of light were visible on the floor, one after another and they led down a long hallway. The rider didn’t seem at all concerned. Soon, the light patterns changed, and the directions down the hall followed along. There were pockets of darkness just outside the reach of the circles of light. “There are other, more advanced methods that could be utilized to come here.” The voice that spoke up in the dark was stilted, but the speaker somehow still managed to show disdain. “You know this, miss?”

A faint laugh was the offered reply. “They’re not as fun.” The rider said in reply, the inflection of her voice showing amusement. There was faint twinkle in her green eyes. “You need to learn to loosen up!” The conversation continued on, as the other speaker walking down the hallway chose to stick to the shadows.

“Loosen what? I will have you know that I have been fastened to ninety-nine-point ninety-nine percent. Nothing on me is loose.” There was an awkward period of silence. The blonde rider merely shook her head without responding. How was she to explain the different pieces of slang collected together to constitute her speech now? “ECHO will be pleased that you came so soon.” The other speaker continued. “You are truly skilled at what you do.” Stopping then, the rider looked at the shadows and shook her head.

“I blend in. That’s what I was made to do, right?” Letting out an audible sigh, she continued walking until she reached a doorway.

“SCAN INITIALIZING.” The same robotic feminine voice spoke up, from the doors. A giant purple gemstone shone from the top of the doors. Unperturbed, she waited patiently with both of her hands on the motorcycle.

“They could do with an upgrade in that message.” She remarked. Time around humans had certainly changed her mindset. “Something that sounds less like…” She paused, uncertain of how she could describe the monotonous tones. Once, this place could have easily been called home. Now, she wasn’t sure. Nothing stayed the same out among the others.

“Less?” The voice queried. Stepping out of the shadows to also submit to the scan, the automaton revealed itself to be rather small in size, only four feet in height. There were no discernable features on its face, a screen over where its mouth would be. A thin visor served as eyes. What was so unusual was how it walked; the movements so fluid – almost as if they were out on a casual stroll. “You should voice your concerns to ECHO.” The response was – predictable. A flicker of what could have been considered to be flinch crossed the rider’s features.

“ENTER.” The voice commanded. The doorway opened scant seconds later. Lightly rolling her eyes, she stepped in with the motorcycle. A tall man stood with his back to her. His bald head was pale…sickeningly so. As he turned around, his movements were uneven. Often, he’d been told that his eyes were the only expressive parts to him. Right now though, they were looking from the rider to her motorcycle and back. She stood stock still after stepping through the door. Walking closer to her, the tall man wrung his hands together. Many would have viewed it as a nervous gesture – but that was not the same in his case. He was deep in thought, wondering what to ask her first. He wondered over the unusual mode of travel and the attire.

“ECHO.” She stated simply, keeping her gaze fixed forward as the man drew closer. Staying so close to the door meant that he was limited in his ability to circle her. That was what he did. There was no need for him to constantly inspect her whenever he saw her. She saw his thin lips pull up into a sickeningly shaky smile. His gaze always lingered too long, making any attempts to appear friendly fail miserably.

“It still astounds me how good you look.” He replied, allowing the strange smile to fall. “Are you sure that I made you?” Leaning forward a little, he looked into her eyes. His hands reached forward then, and he inspected her hairline. Gradually, her features adopted the same cold stare as the small machine with her. There was no need to ‘pretend’ with ECHO. He knew all and saw all. She felt it though when he inspected her eyes. His wide grin returned at her reaction. “Oh…I’m sorry.” He murmured, his smile now simpering. “I forgot that you have so many receptors for so many things. That probably hurt, didn’t it?” Instead of responding, she held her silence. _As soon as this inspection is over, I can get out of here._ Not receiving the reaction he’d hoped for, he calmed down. He stared at her for some time, but she maintained the silence as long as needed. It was a strange battle of wills with them. The creator against the creation…and it never ceased to amaze her just how far he would go to get a reaction out of her.

Folding his arms, seemingly bored now, ECHO spun around and returned to the console he’d been at before. The entire room had minimal lighting, the walls and floors pitch black. A glass chamber, encased in a steel cage, was suspended from the ceiling – emitting an eerie pale blue light. The entire console was also illuminated by the same light, but the man didn’t seem bothered at all. She held back a sound, started to spot what appeared to be a leg floating inside the chamber. Pinching his brow a moment, the tall man began entering commands into his console. Blinking a little she looked at her robotic companion, and both of them looked at ECHO.

“So…you have a report, don’t you?” This was asked with his back to her. Keeping wary, she approached quietly, leaving her motorcycle near the door.

“Yes. The chip as you requested.” Reaching into a pocket in her jacket, she extracted a thin black box. Inside was a small memory card, which she showed him. Closing the box, she handed it to him. Instead of taking it, ECHO shook his head.

“Show me…” He grunted, staring at the leg in the chamber. _So fickle…_ He thought with disgust. He was watching the display on a monitor as tiny machines worked away on the interior of his newest design.

“In which format?” She carefully removed the glove on her left hand and turned it hand palm up. “Audio only?” The skin of her palm parted in the center, revealing a telltale slot. Flicking the top of the box away from her, she extracted the chip with her other hand carefully and began sliding the chip in place.

“I don’t need a little bit of fluff on a memory stick, Ashley.” ECHO snorted. “Show me from your memory banks.” With his thin, pointed chin, he directed her attention to a separate section of the console. The twinge of anxiety that she felt was quickly squashed. There was no need for fear with him…but she was embarrassed that she had completely forgotten that he would ask for information like this. She’d grown used to him requesting these memory cards. Nodding and uncertain about what he would think of what he saw, she walked over to the console and placed the chip next to her.

Her eyes easily spotted the necessary data cables, and she extracted one, connecting herself in. Stiffening, she was unable to suppress a gasp of shock at the sudden sting. The exchange of information between her mechanical brain and the console felt so strange…as if things were slithering inside her head. Bright green lights emitted from around her eyes and ECHO abandoned his work for the moment to watch the second monitor’s display. He was intrigued to see what she had. J Jameson himself was there speaking, possibly introducing her to a younger man who looked both exasperated and tired at the same time. There was no audio, as the sound wasn’t connected on this end.

At first, ECHO had seemed intrigued, but he wasn’t happy with how his ‘creation’ seemed to be having wandering thoughts in her recall. He was pleasantly surprised though. It seemed like she liked jelly filled donuts – a lot. Maybe he shouldn’t have enabled her to eat. “This is all pointless information, Ashley. Show me what you found. You visited Pier Sixty, right?” Her body jerked a little, and the recall changed over to the ruins of the venue. There was plenty of police tape that she had easily stepped around to get to the chamber. The interior of it didn’t tell him much, as it was all damaged from the explosion. He was genuinely surprised that even a little of it remained. He saw her pick up what looked like a remote control and turn it over in her hand before it dipped somewhere out of her sight.

Then, her eyes spotted one of those infuriating octobots. ECHO’s eyes lit up as he watched her approach and carefully disable by emitting an energy charge. His lips turned up widely at the corners and he turned to her. “Ashley Gardiner….” Her glowing gaze drifted to his. “Show me what you learned of the bot.”

\---

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I love constructive criticism, so feel free to contact me! – J. Lyst


	4. Who Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was likely he wouldn’t be pleased with her abrupt visit, but that was his own fault. Time passed quickly while she worked at her desk. Though she was relieved when Mitch left her alone, she was hyperaware of his continued attention. Her lips pursed in displeasure. She didn’t like it when ECHO looked at her the same way, but she understood her creator. Having this human showing her the same attention was unnerving. She was unable to tell what his intent was.

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own any part of Marvel, especially none of the Spiderman Universe. It would be so nice though. So much merchandizing options! Ahem! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this particular chapter.

 **Warnings:** There might be some death. Yunno… Somewhere.

 **Triggers:** None.

Navigating The Curve

By Juliette Lyst

Who Are You?

A young woman sat near the window at the back of a coffee shop, dressed from head to toe in black from her cap – which obscured her hair from view – to her shoes. Twisted away from the whole of the shop in her small corner, the way she sat effectively blocked out anyone who would have wanted to speak with her. Currently, she stared out the window as the world passed her by. Her arms were folded, and she’d been leaning back a little in the seat, worriedly chewing on her bottom lip. _Maybe it was a bad idea to come out here._ The thought came unbidden. So strong was the desire to just escape the four walls she called home, that she had accepted the offer for coffee and companionship. Her friend, if she could call the other woman that, looked more uncomfortable than she felt.

Since they’d come here, neither of them had spoken a word. It had been a suggestion to sit here, but now…

Maybe she should just go home. It would make things so much easier. As she thought over how the two of them looked, she felt an unexpected bubble of laughter form. It never made it past her lips. Her friend was dressed for the day, wearing a veritable cornucopia of colors. She was always prepared to dress for the seasons, perfectly matching the fall weather that had begun to gain traction. She even had found a fetching hat to wear. “I’m sorry for bringing you out here.”

She finally perked up, hearing those words.

“I know you don’t like… Look, I’m worried about you.” Agitatedly, her friend twisted light brown hair around one of her fingers. “I know that you need some time from work, we all understand.”

“I wonder when our orders will get here.” She responded. “Thanks again for the invitation, Marilyn.”

_That_ obviously wasn’t the response that Marilyn was waiting for. Disappointment was visible in her face. Silence settled between the two of them like a blanket. No acknowledgement of Marilyn’s heartfelt words. Nothing at all said about the worry everyone felt.

_It’s fine everyone can claim they understand. It’s fine…_ Even in her mind, she seethed. She never thought she’d be in the type of situation that she suddenly found herself in.

What was meant to be a five-minute wait stretched to ten…with both women not putting a voice to what was going on. The server was coming to their table with drinks for them. She didn’t even mention the awkwardness in the air. “Anything else, ladies?” She asked, waiting patiently.

Marilyn glanced to her friend hesitantly and looked to the server. “Strawberry turnovers.” Keeping quiet, she noticed that once again she had her friend’s attention. Looking at their respective mugs, she even saw a contrast in beverages of choice. The barista that made her drink had put a heart in the center of her cappuccino. Her friend though? “I never knew you drank black coffee…” She remarked. A grimace followed, as she noted that even the offered packets of sugar were ignored. “Black _and_ bitter, huh?” That particular volley couldn’t pass without acknowledgement.

“…I’m not what everyone else thinks.” was the simple reply she’d received.

_How should I take this?_ she wondered. Fragments of conversation were better than none, but the broken statements were still puzzling. “But you still like turnovers, don’t you?” She waited as her friend drank deeply from the mug.

“Of course… That was for me, wasn’t it?” Despite herself, she did smile at the idea of the treat. It wasn’t often that she spoiled herself with anything at home.

“Honestly Mary Jane…” Marilyn responded as their turnovers came to the table. “You know how much I dislike strawberries.” The server’s right brow shot up sharply at that, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she left her customers to their afternoon. Despite her words, Marilyn reached out for one of the turnovers and began taking small bites of it. She was unable to avoid pull a face at the taste. “Eugh... Really now, how can you eat these?”

That elicited a small smirk from Mary Jane. “Can’t escape them now. You’ve already ordered them. I suppose I can help you eat them.” Mary Jane reached for one of the turnovers, nimbly grasping one. Without warning, Marilyn reached across the table with her left hand and pulled off Mary Jane’s shades right as she was biting into a turnover. “Hey!” Marilyn shook her head and folded the shades down, tucking them right into the top of her blouse.

“That’s a lot better.” Marilyn replied, winking. Abandoning over half of her turnover on its napkin, she returned to her cappuccino. “I should have brought some gum to wash the taste out of my mouth!” She made exaggerated choking noises, her face scrunched up in disgust, finally eliciting a laugh out of her friend. “You sound better too.” Mary Jane rolled her eyes. “Please…it’s not wrong for you to smile.”

“Hmm… So you say.” She wasn’t going to try to retrieve her shades and Marilyn knew that. “Cheeky of you.” She remarked. Her green eyes were twinkling in mirth. “I’ll have to keep my eyes on you.” Marilyn lightly shrugged.

“Good thing then that I can now see your eyes, huh?” Mary Jane’s laughter died down a little, but there was pure gratitude written all over her face.

_Location Undisclosed_

It was so mystifying. Her body felt as if it had been turned inside out. That was an impossibility though, right? _I hate these machines!_ she thought in fury. As soon as she realized what she’d thought, her mouth dropped open. Just when had she started feeling like that about anything mechanical? Considering what she was…

“You can go back to your assignment, Ashley.”

Rubbing the back of her neck then, she looked over to ECHO as the man pored over the secondary monitor on his console. It seemed that for the time being, his work on bionic body parts had been abandoned for bigger fish. The man had made somewhat a name for himself in creation of both artificial limbs and entire robotic harnesses. He was currently under contract to create not mere prosthetics, but enhanced cybernetic limb prosthesis that could be wired to the nervous system. The artificial limbs were supposed to look exactly like the real thing.

Not only that, but full sensation was meant to be restored, chief among them touch and the ability to feel differences in temperature. It was strange…how the tall, unusually thin man had so quickly made a name for himself. Five years ago, no one had even heard of him. He operated under a separate name, of course, for his _legitimate_ contracts.

His obsession with all things mechanical had manifested in the creation of his latest android. Ashley was his favorite, and the gynoid knew this. ECHO spent so much time building on what he had called ‘the perfect woman’. When he’d completed her, he hadn’t stopped and steadily added enhancements to her over the years. “Understood.” Ashley replied. Redirecting her attention, she returned to her motorcycle – unaware of a set of eyes on her.

What the thin man thought of her was difficult to explain. Pride could easily top out the list. Everything about her, from conception in sketches on a blank page to watching her move with his own eyes – to him it was pure perfection. His automatons were all made to showcase his studies in human dance and movement. She was unaware that everything about her, from the rhythmic twitch of her hips to how she flicked her hair over her shoulder and offered him a brief wave as she left his base of operations – all of it was a marvel of working parts with perfect symphony inside her compact frame. He had never been so focused on a project in his life. Building Ashley had lit a fire inside him, one he expected to remain once she was online.

Instead, the opposite had happened. As time went on, and he watched her _learn_ how to move and communicate… He began to notice a subtle lull that caused bitterness to bubble up from within. He had become…

Bored.

Very bored.

Nothing gave him excitement, nothing except for the times he wanted to tweak some part of _her_. Though she was artificial, she towed the line between organic and inorganic with what she was built to withstand. She could eat and drink. Ashley was given tentative enhancements to enable her to taste and smell. She could shower without concern or be completely immersed in salty liquids without any adverse issue. He could take her anywhere without worry that her true nature would be revealed. He’d given her a positronic brain.

She was far more interactive than anything he’d seen before, and he certainly enjoyed the back and forth in their conversations.

The framework that her electronic neocortex was built around was designed to mimic human reactions. The redundant silicon central processing unit she carried in addition had already been upgraded and replaced twice. ECHO never expected the maturity he’d seen over the years with her. She showed compassion and submission to those in authority over her.

He took her along so often because she was literally _made_ for him. She was his sole handiwork alone, belonged to him part and parcel. No one else could claim ownerships of even a fingernail. As such, ECHO was extremely protective of her. If he wasn’t so focused on ‘obtaining’ additional designs for other machines, she would never be allowed to leave his lair. He was displeased at the knowledge that she was staying in an apartment, far from his reach.

And yet… There she went. “Parting is such sweet sorrow…” He spoke under his breath, finally gathering himself and returning to the newest focus.

_Sewers_

In the darkness of the sewers, the only thing audible was the distant drip from a damaged pipe somewhere further down in the tunnels. Disgust flit across the hooded man’s pitch-black face as he carefully avoided a suspicious puddle. He was covered from head to toe in a long black cloak, which evenly matched his skin. White hair peeked out from his hood. His nose crinkled at the odors wafting up to him, and he continued walking.

The stench was so unpleasant. _Why,_ He wondered. _Do we continue to meet under here?_ He was sure that no one would be able to tell if they met in a different location for once. Above the fetor and filth.

Meeting locations weren’t his decision alone, which infuriated him. He knew that he wasn’t alone in his dissatisfaction that it had all come to _this_. One of the people he was going to meet with was a very wealthy man. Money and power never meant immunity from the common infirmities that befell all men. That line of thought led him back to the reason that they were all meeting to begin with. Otto Octavius, the _darling_ of New York City was for all intents and purposes…dead. That meant that whatever plans the scientist had in mind had died with him. That meant something else as well. Those _infernal_ , meddling octobots were gone too. At least, that was what all of them hoped.

No one could be certain though, because for the past several months, Otto had worked underneath the banner of Kingsley Industries. Then, there was the matter of Doc Ock’s abandoned lab. It had escaped no one’s notice that while the good doctor had moved _most_ of his machines from that place, not all of them had been relocated.

Now, all of them were learning that the lab had been infiltrated. A faint scratching sound caught his attention, and he stopped walking. His pause was long enough for a sewer rat to scurry out of a large pipe right in front of him. It halted a moment to stare at him, and then resumed its scrambling. _Where did it come from?_ He rounded on the pipe and narrowed his eyes. He could have easily walked through it, to investigate. Reconsidering, he shook his head and returned on his original path.

_Later_

“It took you long enough to get here.” the blonde woman said, frowning heavily in palpable frustration. Her right hand was clutching a manilla envelope.

Instead of responding, he shrugged, a smile stretching his mouth dark wide. “We don’t have time for repeated delays…”

“Aww. Don’t be so negative.” He replied. Uncaring of the nasty stares he received from those gathered in the room, he only addressed one. “Dmitri.” At the man’s silence, he continued. “So, are we ever going to find out why we’re here?” Not waiting for the Russian-born man to answer, he leveled his stare on the lone woman there. “Never took you as someone who stuck to the underground.”

“Lizzy’s decisions are her own Li,” spoke a man in a black business suit. “We just follow her lead.”

“Never took you to listen to mere girls, Norman.” Li remarked. “There has to be more to it. What does she have for you, hmm?” Li’s white eyes stared ahead; a flicker of a frown visible for a moment. “Perhaps a more stable formula?” He clapped his hands together. “That’s what it is, isn’t it?” He noted the glimmer of anger forming in Norman’s eyes. “She found a way to fix your flawed formula, and then you’ll fly again.” Seeming satisfied, he clapped again. “What a wonderful performance.”

“Don’t be a cad.” Lizzy remarked. “This is merely business.” Her blue eyes betrayed the kernel of anger she was holding in. She was never comfortable with dealing with those outside of her immediate circle, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “We need to retrieve the rest of Octavius’ machines. You know what the problem is.”

Li nodded exaggeratedly in response.

“What I want to know is why should this matter to me?” His pale brows angled down, his features twisting slightly. “I have my own empire, my own money. I don’t need to deal with the body of work belonging to a dead man.” He was quiet for a moment, his jaw working. “Give me a good reason to even bother with any of this.”

What was he even doing here? There were plenty of other ways for him to entertain himself. Scoffing, he turned on his heel and quickly headed towards the exit.

“Your company could be affected,” Lizzy responded. “All of our companies could face ruin because of Otto.” Instead of turning around, Li remained standing with his back stubbornly facing her. “There are rumors that he was working on machines that were capable of cracking into any secure computer system in the world.”

Li snorted. “I don’t know if you all remember clearly, but Otto worked with machines solely. He never got into cybercrimes.” The scientist had never thought of such things, though he had suffered for periods of time with limited funding. The financial history of Octavius was up for grabs on the black market… and everyone wanted a peek.

Too bad his schematics weren’t as easily located. It seemed he had stored those elsewhere.

“That’s because he was like you, Li. He was a small man, who thought in small terms.” _That_ infuriated him. He spun around in a fury at her words, surprised to see Norman step in front of Lizzy.

“Oh, what do you think you can do to me, Norman?” Li stomped over to both of them. “You’re not the Green Goblin anymore. Remember?” Instead of drawing back like he would have in the past, Norman straightened to his full height and looked right in Li’s eyes.

“Mister Negative, I suggest you exercise caution. Otherwise, we’re going to find out just how much your healing abilities extend.” Norman crossed his arms, a stony expression on his face. Hesitating at the warning, Li backed off. “Smart man. Continue, Lizzy.”

Not bothered at all by the exchange, Lizzy cleared her throat. “I’ll remind you that he worked under the Hobgoblin…in his laboratory. He moved everything there, but there was still some sort of security at the site of his old lab. Norman and I wanted to figure out why. While Otto was alive, there was only so much that we could do.” Opening the manilla folder she was holding, she extracted a photograph and turned it so that Li could see it. “Now we know that someone else is involved.”

Li took the picture and studied it closely. Whoever went into that lab had completely torn it apart. Wall panels were missing, and even segments of the floors had been stripped. “We aren’t sure who was in there.” Li lifted his head for a moment.

“No clue at all, huh?” He fought the urge to crush the photograph in his grasp. This was being overthought. Surely, the risk and threat was exaggerated…right? “Didn’t any of you look at the most obvious person to be involved? It has to be Roderick!” Li’s lips thinned into a straight line. “Though I never thought he would work so crudely. This looks more like something Vulture would have done.”

“He’s still behind bars, remember Li?” She reached out a hand for the photograph, expectantly. Jerkily, Li handed it back to her. She carefully slid the image back into her folder. “We’ve already excluded Roderick in any of this.” She was careful as she measured the weight of her next words. “His security system was disabled by whomever raided the lab.” She swallowed, uncomfortable with the information that she was sharing. Norman had told her that they needed reinforcements though. She agreed, reluctantly. “There are also indications that a single entity did all of this…in one night. Scrambled the security net, disabled the secondary security system and stripped the laboratory down to the studs.” All of them were quiet then, even Dmitri. The face-shifting man always had _something_ to say.

Not in this case.

Just who were they dealing with?

_Parker Family Home – Night_

The entire house was dark, save for a single light in the kitchen. The lone figure there sat in a metal folding chair, a ceramic mug grasped in both hands. Long gone was the dark lipstick that Mary Jane wore, but her expression was still grim. Her outing with her friend Marilyn had been welcome. After they’d eaten, her friend had suggested that they go to see a movie. Against her own wishes, she had agreed. She knew that Marilyn was always the type to go see romantic comedies and was pleasantly surprised that they both went to see a kid’s movie instead. The shock of the evening had been when Marilyn burst into song along with the dancing banana on the screen.

MJ now knew more about her friend than she ever wanted to. The laughter she’d experienced in the movie theater had lightened the dark cloud of depression that hovered over her.

She was home, though – away from other people who wanted to help her. She supposed the house belonged to her now, considering what had happened to the previous owner. A telltale prickle in her eyes warned her where her thoughts were leading her. She couldn’t help it. MJ had shared the house with Peter for so long. It was his family home, and she had understood what it meant when he asked her to move in. He loved her so much – only for her to turn against his love. _I never should have returned his ring._ She could see it in her mind’s eye now…walking up to Peter the day after leaving that letter and trying to talk through their problems. He would have been resistant at first.

Who could blame him?

The same day, he would have sat with her at their favorite coffee shop and they would have talked. He would have listened, like he always did…and forgiven her. He always forgave her, no matter what it was. Only this time, the young man wasn’t given a chance.

This time, her actions had cut him too deeply. When she’d gone with the police all those months ago to the station, it had been a waste. Maybe they thought that she knew something more. To the entire world, they were engaged and happily so. How could she have told them about the break-up? Her concern proved to be unfounded, because they knew about the dissolution of their relationship –had found the letter she’d left.

So, it turned out she’d been brought to the station to gauge her level of involvement in Peter’s disappearance. Unable to provide them with more information, MJ was escorted back home. Then, the _Daily Bugle_ ran a piece about her missing fiancée. It was everyone’s expectation that he would quickly be found.

Days became weeks, then months. Not wanting him to lose his house, fervently believing he was still alive, Mary Jane had taken the steps required to take over the home. Her petition to be placed on the deed of the house was still pending in court. Had he returned soon; she would have dropped her request. She just wanted him back, in one piece. At first, when she’d seen the picture of Spiderman on the front page of the _Bugle_ , hope sprung anew in her heart. Peter was alive… It would just take time for him to get to her. The longer she read the article though, her elation turned to concern.

Devastation. That was the only word that worked to describe the pictures of Pier Sixty after Otto’s ‘Unveiling’ had gone wrong. Firefighters needed to intervene to get the flames under control. More telling was the photograph posted to the front of the Daily Bugle. Snapped was an image of Peter right as he was flying toward a strange cylinder. Octavius was holding onto him. Was that the only reason that Peter had made an appearance? To be a hero for one last time? Tears had prevented her from reading anymore once she saw the pictures.

_Oh Tiger…_ The emptiness she felt inside was slowly stretching its spindly fingers into other aspects of her life. She had already turned down a job with a top modeling agency. Her own agent was spitting teeth over her decision. Losing out on the contract meant that they _both_ lost out on money. She hadn’t cared, had told her agent as such on the phone before abruptly hanging up on him. What use was money to her right then? Peter had been the one who was more comfortable with their life. He wanted simple things, had wanted to stay out of the limelight for the most part. That was in contrast with how he behaved in costume.

Spiderman was known for his agility and wisecracks. He was missed during the months of his absence. Instead of a happy reunion though, they were all planning a funeral for the masked hero. Unable to reveal his secret, even after his loss, MJ instead moved to grieve alone. There were no remains she could even bury. She couldn’t lie about Peter’s body being found outside the city, nor could she reveal the truth that he’d worked so hard to hide. The stress of living life with him had been taxing on her at first, but now it was sorely missed. She missed his kisses in the mornings and the nights they would watch movies and eat popcorn.

She even missed having to bandage up his scrapes and cuts. He’d dealt with more than one round of broken bones, bruises and burns. Through all of it, he had soldiered on. He’d nearly broken his back last year. Yet that hadn’t been enough to convince him to hang up his spandex tights. He was the bravest, most selfless man she’d ever known.

Her mobile phone buzzed from where it lay on the kitchen counter, but she made no move to check it. She didn’t want to deal with anyone else tonight. Deeply inhaling the steam that rose from her mug, she paused a moment… then swallowed down some of her tea.

It was going to be a very long night.

_Location Undisclosed_

It was a true showing of ingenuity. _The time and effort that went into every little gear._ ECHO noted with excitement. The hour was late, yet the tall man continued to work. His eyes were bloodshot from studying the blueprints drawn up from the images extracted from Ashley’s memory banks. The octobots were a feat of engineering. ECHO’s mouth stretched into a wide grin. He could improve on the small bots, make them better. He had some other contacts who had their greedy eyes set on Otto’s designs as well.

A faint alarm sounded in the distance as he bent over his console. He had been working tirelessly on two separate projects, but if he was able to stay awake another four hours, his newest cybernetic limb would be ready for the client a day ahead of schedule. That was, if he was able to concentrate. Whenever he had to wait as his nanobots worked on the intricate circuitry inside the leg, his eyes were again drawn to the blueprints.

The alarm silenced itself after five minutes, and he heard the doors behind him open. “Sir, it is time for you to take your medication.” ECHO ignored the small automaton. “And rest.” He heard the rhythmic clank of footsteps as the bot walked over to him. His near fevered gaze was furious at the interruption.

He was _so_ close. So close, he could taste it.

“Who told you to bother me?” He asked the small machine, flippantly. He managed to keep the heat out of his words.

“You did, sir.” It replied simply. “Sixteen hours – five minutes ago, you told me to come here.” The machine was perfectly balancing a tray that held three pill bottles and a glass of water. The bottles all had the same notations on them: ‘For G. Berry Only.’ All at once, ECHO seemed to deflate a little. _That_ was true. He would be a wise man to listen to himself, wouldn’t he?

“Sure, sure. Let me have it then.” Abandoning his projects, he moved to open the pill bottles one at a time and pop a single pill, pushing them down with generous gulps of water. “There…” He said with satisfaction, loudly smacking his lips. He set the glass back down on the tray. “Now, you can leave me be.” Already dismissing the bot, he turned back to his console.

“Sir, you also need to rest. Your own commands.” Faint green light was visible behind the bot’s visor and one by one, the entire console and its monitors turned off. Mouth dropping open in shock, ECHO slammed a fist angrily into the console.

“I should scrap you for that.” He snarled under his breath. The automaton seemed unaffected by its creator’s words. For its own safety though, it did take several steps backwards.

“Your orders sir.” It repeated, in a dispassionate voice. “Rest. For at least eight hours. Ten if possible.” For all the bluster, ECHO merely smacked the surface of his console again, letting out his anger by screaming. Lacking fragile eardrums, the bot was unaffected. Instead, it patiently waited.

Tiring himself out after a few minutes of this, he turned to the bot.

“Lead the way…” He muttered. The automaton turned, exiting the doors with ECHO on its heels. _Why did I make this thing so annoying?_ He wondered idly as he studied the small machine. He must have been intoxicated that day. ECHO did enjoy the occasional drink, but hadn’t let loose in a long time. Work was time and time was money. He couldn’t afford to take a day off. Though if the thin man was honest with himself, he could more than afford to take time away from his work.

The newest project had consumed his attention. How could it not? For a long time, he’d worked in the shadow of Otto Octavius. He had tried to get into the man’s class back when Otto taught them, only to be turned away for the eccentricities he had in mannerisms. It wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t been properly socialized as a child. Instead, fearing for his health, his mother had kept him locked up in the house.

All of the windows in his childhood home had been covered. He always attributed his life back in Claremore to one of the many reasons behind his successes today. If not for the desire for _more_ , he never would have left home. On his first venture outside the family home, the sheer brightness of the sun had nearly rendered him blind and left him with searing blisters over thirty percent of his body. He had never wanted to step outside ever again.

Obtaining medical treatment for his vision and skin conditions had aided him in finally striking out alone. His mother had told him that the world didn’t know how to treat people like him, that he would be turned away – rejected. She told him that no one could ever love him like she had. As a young man, he had left home regardless…trembling and afraid of what the world was going to do to him.

Fifteen years later, he fully understood that his mother’s actions and words were that of a mentally ill woman – one who did not want to let go of him. She thrived on the attention showered on her sick son.

To this day, ECHO wasn’t certain that all of his health problems as a child had been natural either. After leaving home, most of them had vanished…but his stomach ailments still lingered.

ECHO frowned, a muscle jumping in his too-thin cheek as he remembered their last exchange. Even though he was so poorly treated, he had still seen to sending money home to his family. The last check he’d sent hadn’t been cashed though. After a month, he was starting to get concerned.

There were moments when ECHO felt profound bouts of emotion, but this had not been one of them. Instead, he had dispatched some of his drones to seek out and ‘survey’ his family. He knew the reports would take another week to reach him, but he was a patient man.

Stepping into his bedroom, which was starkly spartan compared to the rest of the building, he removed the contact lenses in his eyes. Placing them in their case, he snapped it closed and reached across to a separate box. He extracted the mouth guard he slept with to prevent further damage to his teeth from grinding. Popping the thick plastic into his mouth, he climbed under the covers. He rolled his eyes, when the bot pulled the covers over him. “Hea.” He spoke up, now with a heavy lisp. The automaton turned to him. “Set my alarm for ten hours. No argument.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Hea?” Locating the eye mask under his pillow, ECHO pulled it out and slid it into place on his head. “Prepare us lunch. I’m thinking of fish with coffeecakes.”

“Understood.” Hea replied, with a faint whirring sound. The android turned and left the room. 

_The Daily Bugle – Daytime_

Ashley light tapped her pen on her notepad as she listened to J Jameson. The older man was still buzzing from the plans put in place for his interview. It had been a simple matter to pick which company he was going to interview with, but the sticky part was setting a solid date for the event. JJ wanted them to pull out all the stops. It wasn’t lost on any of them that he was the first person, as far as they knew, who was approached for his take on the events two weeks ago.

They were in yet another meeting to discuss upcoming shoots for the front of the _Bugle_. It was a rather boring affair, but the Ashley didn’t mind. This was far more interesting than the tasks that ECHO sent her on. Thinking of her creator made her shiver. She wasn't sure why. Her creator had never done anything to harm her. Still… Something about the way ECHO looked at her made her _feel_ uncomfortable.

He also looked far too thin this time. She supposed she would have to visit later today to make sure that he was eating properly. No matter how he made her _feel_ , she was going to care for him. Their relationship was strange indeed, and she was becoming increasingly concerned whenever he mentioned an idea for another ‘upgrade’ to her systems. The upgrades were never harmful, but they all heightened her ability to experience what was around her.

ECHO though…needed to learn to appreciate food more.

Not that she had a problem in that regard. She smothered a smirk as the meeting went on. Her usual order of coffee and a raspberry filled donut was coming in soon. It was a silly request, really. She didn’t have a need to eat, but she had a _want_ to. The different flavors of human foods continued to surprise her. Her body had been adapted to be able to draw energy from the food that she ate. Or…she could plug herself up when at home. To be honest, the gynoid preferred to eat. It felt less…invasive. Maybe she was getting too used to human-like activities – to the extent that what she was truly able to do – seemed so foreign to her now. It wasn’t really her fault, though. ECHO’s latest updates had enhanced her taste buds and food tasted _so good_. Still, she was limited by her design. During her scheduled lunch hour, she always returned home to empty her food storage tank and check her energy levels.

Much time and care went into her own personal maintenance. If she wasn’t careful, she could easily break down. That was the last thing ECHO wanted. Truly, it was the last thing she wanted either. She really enjoyed her life, as artificial as it was.

She might even joy working with Jameson, no matter his periodically mercurial moods. She still wasn’t sure what to make of her secondary employer. He put on such a display when with his employees, but as his personal assistant, Ashley was around him when no one else was. At the end of the day, Jameson was a mere man. The pressure to stay on top had powered him forward for so long, but there were small indicators that he was running out of steam.

A missing employee was also proving to be an issue. Peter Parker should have resurfaced when Spiderman had, yet he was still absent. From what she had gleamed, studying older issues of the Bugle, Peter Parker was always present whenever Spiderman was. He should have been the one to provide the last set of photographs for the newspaper. Ashley had a running theory on the story between the two, but hesitated. She had to be wrong about Peter Parker and Spiderman being the same person.

Right?

_Evening_

Capping her pen, Ashley sighed heavily. She’d needed to work late, completing editorial work for the upcoming headline article. One of her coworkers, Mitch, had offered to take her out to dinner. She’d swiftly rejected it with a smile. Ashely didn’t know much about their newest photographer, only that he was persistent. Her lessons in how to deal with humans only extended so far. It was late, and she still needed to get back to check on ECHO. It was likely he wouldn’t be pleased with her abrupt visit, but that was his own fault. Time passed quickly while she worked at her desk. Though she was relieved when Mitch left her alone, she was hyperaware of his continued attention. Her lips pursed in displeasure. She didn’t like it when ECHO looked at her the same way, but she understood her creator. Having this human showing her the same attention was unnerving. She was unable to tell what his intent was.

Pulling out her phone for a moment, she placed an order at an eatery near her apartment. Her plan was simple: show up to see ECHO with a bucket of fried chicken and a large container of sour cream for dipping. For a moment, her frown smoothed out. Her creator had very unusual but simple tastes. Once she was sure that the order was secured, she stood up from her desk, slinging her purse across her chest. She walked in the direction of her bike. Today, it was a gorgeous shade of red. There were micro projectors at work to mask its true appearance. Making sure the purse was secured fully, she placed her key in the ignition and picked up her helmet. She smoothly climbed into her seat, her short skirt inching up higher from the action.

A low, slow whistle reached her ears. Pausing, she looked around. Spotting the source of the sound, her eyes narrowed. Mitch. What did he want?

“Wow. I never knew you rode, Ash.” The gynoid chafed under the attention. She did not know why this man preferred to use a shortened form of her name. “You look gorgeous on that thing.” Stepping closer, Mitch actually trailed his hand over the sleek curves of the bike itself. Ashley saw the exact moment that he moved to touch her thigh.

“Get your hand off me.” In the split second it took for Mitch to register her words, the gynoid had already straightened up on her seat and was lifting her left arm. The only thing Mitch saw before she backhanded him was a strange green glow around her eyes. The force of the blow resulted in a loud crack as that section of his jaw was broken. Intense pain and the sudden shock rendered him unconscious. Staring at Mitch as he lay on the ground at a twisted angle, Ashley didn’t bother to even see if he was alive. Calmly, she pulled her helmet on and turned on the ignition. Kicking the throttle, she sped out of the parking lot…leaving her coworker where he lay.

ECHO was going to eat tonight, if she had anything to say about it.

_Kingsley Institute – Daytime_

Roderick had been hunched over at his desk hard at work. Pausing, he leaned back in his chair, stretching and yawned widely.

“I was unaware that our conversation was boring, Mister Kingsley.” said the person on the other end of the video conference. Roderick’s action hadn’t gone unnoticed. Instead of responding, Roderick shook his head. He grabbed the steel mug that sat on his desk next to his computer and gestured for the other man to continue. Grinning too widely, the pale skinned man on the screen lifted a tablet and turned it to face the computer screen. “As you can see, the distinction with these clothes is that the user can adjust the color at any time. It’s here, in the weave of the material.” He used a stylus to point to one section and zoomed in. “I’m still working on the polymer, which would make the material resistant to water.” Roderick was silent, studying what he could see of the design. It was a good idea, although probably one of the strangest concepts he’d ever heard of.

“You said the clothing could keep itself clean as well.” Roderick ran his fingers through his hair. He was still trying to figure out what to do with Otto’s tools in the basement. Without the scientist there, he had no way of figuring out what the half-finished projects were. Bringing anyone else in posed a serious risk, one that he was unwilling to take. So he had everything packed up in boxes in the lab and no idea what to do with it all.

“Oh…yes of course! The fabric won’t have permanent stains ever.” Roderick swallowed down more of his coffee. “It’s simply revolutionary! No stains, adjustable colors and water resistance! What more could a modeling company or better yet, a clothing designer such as yourself ask for? It’s very easy to handle and is light as a feather.”

“I will need some time to think about this. You understand, Mister Berry?” The man on the other side of the screen nodded, his smile still in place. “I will be in touch.” Not waiting for a response, Roderick cut the connection. He pushed back from his desk and stood up to stretch. He needed more information before he created a working relationship with Gunner Berry. He didn’t know much about the man, except for the fact that he was an Okie by birth. The man was also ridiculously tall and thin. “I should ask for a sample of that material…” He mumbled, strolling over to the massive windows behind his desk.

From up here, he had a bird’s eye view of the city below. He’d built his empire with his own bare hands _mostly_ and a lot of determination. Criminal activity had also helped contribute to his wealth, and he had _borrowed_ designs from others without paying in the past. He didn’t easily make deals, especially not with those he didn’t know well. Still… the offer had seemed to tempting. _How do you even price something like that?_ The price on the market would be high. Part of what kept clothing affordable for _some_ was that the items were ultimately limited by both the materials and dye that went into their creation. The more elaborate designs under the big brands cost into the thousands. Smaller, less known companies couldn’t take the risk that buyers wouldn’t want to buy.

Not that Roderick was going to have the price too high if he could even find a way to showcase the new clothing. Just how did one figure out a way to charge for color changing clothing? _What makes it even able to do that?_ He suspected there was more going on with Mister Berry. He would have to handle that man carefully, but if his suspicions were proven false and he acted too rashly, he could miss out on millions in revenue. He clasped his hands behind his back, deep in thought as he looked down at the city.

_Afternoon – Across Town_

“Turn this way.” The man behind the camera spoke to the model before him. “A little further forward,” he requested, adjusting his camera. He took several snaps, two of them with the flash on. Adjusting his zoom, he stepped from behind the camera for a moment. “Now, I want a completely different expression for this one.”

His model raised a brow in question. Maybe it was a bad idea to agree to this contract, but it was ironclad. Before the ink was even dry, she found herself shuffled over here – by limousine, no less. Then, she was right into makeup, hair and wardrobe: a white negligee with translucent sleeves and a matching silken cloak clasped around her throat. She didn’t think the gig was _that_ bad until they fit her with a set of realistic antlers and put a long, red rose in her left hand. 

“You are angry and want to exert your position as the head of the pack, yes?” He waved just past her and two other models came in. “Just go, like this… Roar, right?” He walked over and instructed her to elevate her arm, with the hand extended as if she was reaching towards the viewer on the end of the camera. “Reach a little further.” As he spoke, he jogged back behind the camera. The camera went off, unbidden with her blank expression before she was told to ‘roar’. It took several minutes before the photographer seemed satisfied with the shoot.

Two more sets and additional photos, all including complete wardrobe and make-up changes… and time was called for lunch. Finally, free of most of the make-up save bluish paint on her face, the young model settled herself down to the catered lunch brought in for all of them. Recognizing one of the two women from her first shoot, the model extended her hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you,” she said with a smile.

“Same.” The young brunette was already eating. “Today’s been pretty busy.” Despite being in plain clothes for the time being, she was sweating.

“That’s true.” The model laughed faintly. “What’s your name?”

“Phoebe Morales. You? You’re our guest today, aren’t you?” Phoebe looked around their table, trying to find someone. “I don’t see Jody today.” The model nodded in reply.

“Yes. MJ Watson. My agent called… It was a last-minute thing.” _Good enough_. She thought. She was coming to the three-week mark since Peter had… Her gaze returned to her plate. She couldn’t refuse work indefinitely and the time passed a lot faster too. And she liked the new photographer. He was different than the other men she’d had to work with. For one, he wasn’t a lecher. Also, he’d promised her plenty of local projects, so she wouldn’t need to travel.

“Having you here is pretty wild. Strange, but wild.” Without explaining what _that_ meant, Phoebe resumed eating in silence. Not wanting to question anything, Mary Jane also returned to her lunch.

Before she was able to head home, there were more outfits, more make-up and even more pictures to take. She was curious to see what the final product would look like.

_Alchemax_

Frustrated. If there was a word that Lizzy Allen could use to describe her mood today…that one would fit best. “Norman, you can sit down now.” The older man was pacing back and forth in her office, as if he wanted to start climbing the walls. “Allowing yourself to become stressed from this is bad for your health. You do want to see your grandson grow up, don’t you?” That gave Norman pause.

“Of course, I do!” Finally seating himself, he focused on Lizzy. “We’re no closer to figuring out where all of those parts went. Whoever took them must have gone underground…” He muttered to himself, leaning forward in his seat and running his fingers through his hair repeatedly. “Or somewhere. They can’t just disappear like nothing.” Norman shook his head. “But how could they take everything in one night? Why are they so quiet?” His voice softened. “No… that’s not it at all.”

Slowly, so as to not startle Norman, Lizzy quietly pulled open a drawer in her desk and extracted a needle. She slipped it into her hand and walked around Norman as he continued to have a conversation with himself. Not liking what she was going to have to do, she jammed the needle into his right shoulder, pushing the plunger all the way down. Yelling in alarm, Norman looked to his shoulder and ripped the needle out. “What did you do?!” He yelled, his anger spiking at her actions. Angrily, he tossed the needle aside and approached her.

Instead of responding, Lizzy stepped away from Norman. He was beginning to breathe heavily, and as he reached out to grab her, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed on the plush carpet she kept in the room. Realizing she was holding her breath, one of her hands splayed across her chest, she exhaled sharply. Clearing her throat after a moment and noticing that he wasn’t getting up anytime soon, she walked over to her phone, and she buzzed her secretary. “Please send up some security personnel. My guest… Requires a place to rest.” She was going to have to explain why he was sprawled out on her carpet. Checking him quickly for injuries and relieved to find none, she waited until security could come to set him up on the couch. Sleep was what the man needed.

What Mister Negative had stated during their last meeting was close to the truth. Her company had gained the rights to the Goblin Serum after the merger with Oscorp. Since then, a handful of chemical analysts under her employ worked tirelessly to not only intensify the strength of the formula, but to eliminate the negative side effects of it. Norman jumped at the chance to no longer be considered “normal” and agreed to be the first human subject. From what she could see, the neurological effects were still there. She had hoped that the compound causing psychosis would have been removed from the batch. Lizzy had yet to check up on the second ‘test’ subject. They had chosen two men for the first round, and would use women for the second.

She was almost afraid to proceed after this ‘hiccup’ with Norman. The last thing she needed was another person dealing with psychological problems. Observing Norman as the guards came in and lifted him up to settle on the couch, she frowned. Norman suffered for years with hallucinations because of the Goblin Serum. Why would he voluntarily subject himself to taking it again unless there was some reward? From what she could understand in the notes from the chemists, the formula was stronger… which meant theoretically, Norman could have increased and prolonged periods of psychosis.

“Ma’am?” One of the guards asked after they safely settled Norman on the couch.

“That’s all. If I have any problems, I’ll be in touch.” Lizzy knew she was taking a risk. Keeping Norman anywhere near her right now was risky. There was no way to predict how he would act upon waking. Leaning back in her desk, Lizzy thought carefully for a moment and picked up the phone at her desk. It was time to make some calls.

_Location Undisclosed_

In stark contrast to the blueprints and reports that normally were displayed on the side monitors in ECHO’s lab, a baseball game was playing.

“Hey, Hea!” ECHO called, leaning back in his seat, a large bowl of fried chicken balanced in his lap. The small automaton stepped into his lab. “Come, come!” He gestured to the bot. “Sit and watch the game with me.”

Hea turned around, joints squealing faintly. It paused, wondering if anyone else was being addressed as well. Finding no one, Hea walked over to ECHO.

“Sir?” The bot asked, confused. It was rare that ECHO would ever do this. The man had just been screaming about a deadline a few days ago and throwing a tantrum. Now, he was relaxing with a bowl of… “What are you eating?” ECHO lifted a fried drumstick in the air and waved it around.

“It’s food, Hea. Come, sit and watch the game with me.” The automaton took another step and stayed in place. Now that was closer, it could see a white tub sitting on the floor next to ECHO’s chair. The bot had never watched a ‘game’ before and was unsure how to respond.

“Unable to compute.” Hea responded, compressing its small body further so it seemed shorter. In response, ECHO rolled his eyes. The bot looked at the monitor, but it was obvious that it neither understood nor cared to understand. The door opened behind both of them and Ashley stepped in. She hesitated when Hea turned towards her. ECHO, as usual, did not acknowledge her presence at all. Soundlessly, she pulled over another chair and sat down, to watch the game. Soundlessly, the tall man offered her the option to pick some of the food from the bucket. She shook her head and gently pushed it back to him.

Shrugging, ECHO tucked into his food, dunking bits of the fried chicken into the tub of sour cream. He was a very careless and sloppy eater, evident by the mixture of fried chicken crumbs and sour cream smeared on his shirt. Ashley and Hea shared a look. Both of the machines in the room expected the game to be done soon. When another hour rolled past though, Ashley pantomimed stretching and sighed loudly. “Well…” She started. “It’s time for me to head back to the apartment. It’s past my bedtime.” So engrossed in both the meal and game, ECHO waved her off idly.

“Have a good night, Ashley. Get plenty of rest.” Smirking and not wanting to correct him, Ashley ducked out of the room and hurried to her motorcycle. It was time to get to bed, which for her meant she was going to charge overnight. Her return trip was pretty peaceful. Setting her bike up in the garage, she headed up the stairwell to her fourth floor apartment, not that stairs ever bothered her. After entering her apartment, she locked the door and stood in the main entrance for a few minutes.

It was good to see her creator actually eating, though he was so messy. Not that it mattered much to her, but she was still flicking crumbs off her clothing – much to her consternation. Removing the soiled clothes, she shook it a little more, watching in dismay as crumbs appeared out of everywhere. _So nasty…_ She frowned. It was late, according to the clock on the wall behind her couch. Close to three in the morning. Far too early in the morning to vacuum her floor. Nose twitching at the mess on the floor, she stepped around it and walked right towards her bedroom. The walls in the apartment were eggshell white, but covered with a number of framed pictures. Some of the pictures were in truth from different assignments. She was supposed to have a ‘realistic’ appearance to her apartment, so it would make sense for her to have a bunch of pictures of her on trips in different places. One of them was her flashing the ‘peace sign’ while on a beach and fresh out of the water.

There was only one problem with the picture. She remembered that they had been nowhere near any sand. Instead, the background was a realistic imitation of the true thing. She had been soaked though, having had a bucket of water poured on her before the snap was taken. She had a few paintings posted up on the walls too. These were pieces she picked out on her own to enhance the dwelling’s look. The different objects, from the table to the hodgepodge of multicolored chairs, all seemed to clash just a bit, but not too obviously. Her bedroom on the other hand was a pale blue color. She’d attached glow in the dark stars to the ceiling, wanting to have something nice to view at night time. They were waiting for her and she restrained a smile before walking past her bed and stepping into the closet. Closing the doors, she easily found her power plug – sticking out of a harness that stuck two feet from the wall. Setting an alarm for herself, she plugged herself in, sagging against the outstretched arms of the harness as her higher ‘brain’ functions shut down for the time being.

When she slept, she never dreamed. From what she'd heard of them, she would always consider this an advantage.

_The Daily Bugle – Present Day_

Jameson wasn’t happy. Unfortunately, when he was upset everyone else would suffer with him. He was already under so much pressure, with his interview coming up that Thursday, and one of his brightest new photographers lay in the hospital on life support. All the jobs that Mitch was scheduled for were suddenly left open without any of The Bugle’s photographers free enough to take them. Now JJ was trying to select someone to fit into Mitch’s shoes. _What happened to him_? The question continued to run laps in his head. He’d been found in the parking lot, just outside the reach of the security cameras. What they later found out was that Mitch had laid in his own growing puddle of saliva and blood until nearly five in the morning. The daytime janitor had found him and called for an ambulance. Thankfully, Mitch had still been alive, but unfortunately he’d soon gone into respiratory arrest while en route to the hospital.

CPR had saved his life, but now he was connected to a ventilator so that he could breathe. He was due a scan soon to check for indicators of brain damage. From what Jameson had learned from the man’s family, things were not looking good. The only person who seemed unfazed by Jameson’s fiery moods was his assistant, Ashley. Studying the young woman as she diligently took notes, JJ had an idea. After all, Ashley had taken such fantastic shots of the jail right after Doc Ock had escaped.

“Miss Gardiner.” At hearing her name, Ashely looked up. “The camera you received for joining us? Take it. I need someone with experience to take over Mitch’s workload until he’s back.” Unconcerned, Ashley nodded quietly. Truth be told, she was happy to do something other than sit in JJ’s office all day helping him through various piles of paperwork. Alternately, she sat at her own desk all day handling the mail that came in. She was really an expert shot behind the camera, but when joining the _Bugle_ had spoken of a budding interest in taking pictures. Nary a thought of hers went to Mitch. She was just relieved that she didn’t have to deal with his face anymore.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Jameson nodded. He could always depend on her to take to her projects without a flicker of complaint.

“Now, on to another matter of business…” Waiting until he had all eyes on him. “We need to set time to go and –” Before he could finish his thought, his phone rang. “Ah, Miss Gardiner, could you check on that?”

Nodding, she crossed the boardroom to grab the handset, and stepped into a separate corner, where she could answer the call privately.

“Hello? You’ve reached the Bugle.” Confusion flit across her features first and she fell silent.

Minutes ticked by without her saying anything. She was aware that Jameson was able to see her actions, moving further from his line of sight.

“Are you certain?” She asked softly, glancing down. As she turned back toward her boss, she noted his attention out the corner of her eye. She tried to school her features.

Jameson, froze at the expression on her face.

Ashley nodded faintly, trying to keep her expression blank, though her brows were still pinched together in concern. “One moment.” Cupping a hand over the mouth piece, she walked over to her boss. “It’s for you, sir.”

“Thank you, Miss Gardiner.” As he took over the phone call, Ashley returned to her seat. “Jameson here.” He paused a moment. He frowned. “Yes… That is him. What are you trying to tell me?” His mouth dropped open, and he fell quiet for quite some time. When he did speak again, his voice sounded rough. “No. Yes. Yes of course. I understand. Thank you for informing us. Let the family know… We offer our sincerest condolences…” As he finally disconnected the call, he leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table.

“Mister Jameson?” One of his employees asked.

“He… He’s dead.” JJ lifted his head then, distress visible on his features. “That was the hospital. The family wanted us to know that Mitch’s injuries were too severe. Completely braindead. They just disconnected him this morning.” His head bowed, as scenarios ran rampant through his mind. The _Bugle_ was going to be besieged by police and homicide detectives soon.

His proud shoulders sagged.

\--

**A/N:** I’m late. I know. I’m sorry.

I wanted to give a big shout-out to **roipecheur** for Mega Beta-ing this chapter for me. I’m so sorry that I had so many errors – everywhere!

Thanks for sticking through this with me! I hope you all enjoyed! Feel free to let me know what you think. I love constructive criticism! ~ J. Lyst


	5. To Be Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even that motion made him think of what the future held for him. If he stayed here, life would be tricky…true. It wasn’t safe for Jen for him to resume his previous activity as a superhero. Life in general was going to be a lot harder for both of them.

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own any part of the Spiderman universe, nor any other portion of the Marvel Universe…nor its mini universes or anything else.

 **Warning:** No beta input. I’m so sorry.

 **Trigger:** None at all, unless you’re prone to going ‘Awww!’ at cute things.

Navigating The Curve

By Juliette Lyst

To Be Mine

He couldn't be sure when his view on his life had begun to change. Until a month ago, he struggled to find a purpose. He was depressed over a broken relationship, felt useless at his job. The pain of MJ leaving had resulted in a disappearance – one that would have lasted indefinitely.

Then...for no reason other than coincidence, he read the newspaper. New York held plenty of baggage, but the person he cared the most for was there. Sure, he didn’t always enjoy how his former boss treated him, but the various teammates he’d picked up over the years webslinging had become like a second family.

Family.

That was a tricky topic, wasn’t it? His life had changed so drastically in less than a week. Through no fault of his own, he had been thrown into a completely different world. He was around people that he wanted to say he knew.

Everyone around him right now understandably had reservations. In the past, their nervous looks – when they thought he didn’t notice – would have made sense. Not now. He had lost everything in what he dubbed ‘the accident’. It was a mistake that he was even here.

The alternative though… What was waiting back home for him? More bitterness and pain.

He could have very well spent the rest of his life moving from one hostel to another, having to constantly work to provide money for daily rent. On the road, he owned nothing except for his duffle bag. Now he carried even less. Only his wallet and costume survived the trip with him. That was it.

The clothes he’d worn to the hospital were bought here as was his nearly empty backpack. The gaping holes in possessions mirrored the emptiness of his life. Was this all there was? He had asked himself that question over the many nights that he worked with the Knott family. His time with them was very simple, but peaceful. He was so happy to be able to contribute something to help them.

They could have easily run him off their property, but had allowed him to stay in exchange for work. What would he have done if Caleb had never killed Jonas? What if all they had to do that night was deliver a bag of rice or fresh cane? Would he have ever left that existence?

He had to bathe outside with a bucket or hike to the nearest stream for a brisk bath. Rainy days had proven themselves to be helpful in that regard as well. _I might never have seen that paper._ Sighing faintly in his seat on the tan couch, he lightly plucked at his nighttime attire: a white t-shirt and red flannel bottoms that Jen loaned him. _I could have stayed…_ But was that really what he wanted?

He had a desire to stay near his loved ones – near MJ, though she didn’t want him. Peter didn’t want the pressure, the stress. He was treated as nothing for so long, had forgiven so often even when he should have been outraged. Deep down, Peter was a sensitive man, behind the laughter and wise cracks.

Sometimes, he could beat himself so badly over a decision that he would begin to doubt himself. Several times, he had been on the precipice of hanging up his tights once and for all. What was it all worth really?

In the end?

Who he was could be construed as the result of a series of very unfortunate events, couldn’t it?

Would he have stayed with MJ as long as he had?

Where would they live if so? And what would have happened to Uncle Ben? Surely, the older man would still be alive had Peter not gotten a ride that day. His eyes watered thinking about how in just one act of selfishness, he had lost one of the most important people in his life. Since then, he worked hard at showing how serious he was about _everything_. He tackled his job with the same fervor as he did crimefighting.

This attitude had backfired on him. Between the frequent absences and constant risks to his personal safety, an immovable wedge had been placed between him and his ex-fiancée.

_It’s all my fault…_ he realized grimly. Until he could find a balance between Spiderman and Peter Parker, he was no good to anyone. Much less someone that he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

What had his response been to his breakup with Mary Jane? To run away without telling anyone. He had done nothing other than prove her right. He supposed he would have thanked her for the insights, had he the chance before his foolhardy fight against Doc Ock.

“Is anything worth all of this?” he asked under his breath, leaning forwards and resting his head in his hands. He hadn’t had time to process he’d endured in just a few short months.

Noticing a sudden shadow over him, Peter looked up.

Jennifer was standing there in a loose-fitting black shirt with matching flannel bottoms. She was holding two cereal bowls, one dark brow arched high. “You look like your best friend just died,” she pointed out, rather bluntly. Her gaze wandered to the blinds – drawn for the evening. “Is everything alright?”

Not responding, Peter reached up to receive the bowl from her. He wasn’t sure that he should bring up anything – not yet. Certainly not when his emotions still felt so raw.

Intelligent brown eyes watched him, a question in their depths. Quietly, Jennifer sat down on the couch and dug into the contents of her bowl.

Peter grimaced just a little at the sight. He liked ice cream fine and all, but that was mostly what she ate at night since being discharge from the hospital.

His friend moaned around the spoon in her mouth.

The young hero grabbed the remote control to the television and turned it on.

“What are we watching tonight?” he asked. Not receiving a response, he glanced to his right and held back a laugh. Jennifer was actually swaying a little where she sat, both eyes closed. While she was distracted, Peter carefully spooned heaps of the ice cream from his bowl to hers.

Not expecting much of a response, he began flipping through the channels. Nothing that interesting was on. Eventually, he ran into Court TV and felt slender fingers rest on his wrist. _Of course._ He _did_ laugh then. Jennifer always seemed to have a fixation on either shows with cops or legal matters. Or both. She claimed that they were what she was most drawn to.

It wasn’t true, because he’d caught her one afternoon watching cartoons and eating popcorn.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, confusion written on her face. When his answer wasn’t forthcoming, she pouted but dug into her bowl again. She did a double take while looking between their bowls. “How… How did you eat yours so fast?”

In response, Peter popped a spoon of the ice cream in his mouth. He _barely_ managed to hold back a grimace at the taste.

“Oh, do you want me to get more for you?” Jennifer moved to get up, but Peter shook his head.

“No thank you. I’m pretty full.” _That’s not even a half truth._ he thought with a sigh. “Do you want the rest of this, Jen?”

Eagerly, she scooped the rest of his ice cream into her bowl and actually licked it clean before handing it back. After a few minutes of companionable silence, she spoke again.

“So, you never told me what upsetting you so much.” She figured it best to cut to the chase.

Peter frowned. How could he explain? Would she feel offended if he told her that being here at all was the cause of his distress? He was dealing with an existential crisis.

“You can tell me, you know.”

He _did_ know – and that was part of the problem. Peter was torn, his want to return home warring with his burgeoning desire to stay.

“Come on, now,” she lightly nudged him with her shoulder. “We’re having a baby together. I’m pretty sure whatever you have to say, I can handle.”

_Ah…_ He thought. There was that too. “How are you and Baby feeling tonight?” He asked, reaching down to feel the soft curve in her abdomen with his right hand.

One of the few times that he felt of importance lately was when he’d sat next to her at the hospital, watching as the doctor did a final ultrasound before she was discharged.

Overwhelmed at what she was seeing, Jennifer had reached for his hand, and he had given it to her to lend silent support.

He’d felt surprised at first – until he looked at the screen. Peter wasn’t supposed to feel so attached to a child that wasn’t his. So many different emotions melded together that day.

He vividly remembered what the doctor had told them.

_“There’s your baby. A bit shy I see. Got the legs crossed and everything,” The doctor was intently studying the screen as he spoke. “Everything looks good. You’re on track for thirteen weeks.”_

_Peter felt his heart pounding; his hands trembling. She must have felt that, because he felt her responding squeeze in return. Thirteen weeks?_

_Narrowing his eyes, the doctor leaned closer. Eyes crinkling at the corners after a moment, he remarked – smiling. “Someone is sucking their thumb!”_

_Jennifer sniffled loudly, her eyes moist. “That thumb sucking came from somewhere,” she stated plainly, rolling her eyes and laughing. “Certainly not a habit I took up.”_

_Peter piped up. “Hey! I resemble that remark!” His cheeks flushed when he realized what he was saying. Was it possible that this itty-bitty thing was worming its way into his heart so soon? He was claiming traits that didn’t belong to him._

His reverie was broken when Jen began speaking again.

“…voiding the question, I see,” Jennifer said softly, resting her left hand over his. “You’re fortunate we’re not in a court of law, Pete,” her words held absolutely no heat. “Otherwise, I could have you thrown out for contempt.” she smiled faintly.

“Not if I invoke my right to plead the fifth.” Jennifer snorted at that. If there was one statement that she’d hated in court, that was at the top of the list. Why did the ones who committed heinous crimes know enough to use that defense? Not that there weren’t more…unethical methods to extract a confession. She always preferred to play by the book.

He watched then as she balanced the bowl on her right leg and ate with one hand. “That’s not going to give you a stomachache?” he asked. That had become a genuine concern of his.

Upset stomachs for Jen meant long nights for him. He simply could not relax when he could clearly hear her moaning in discomfort. The last three nights, she’d ended up hugging the toilet – cursing his existence.

The first night, he’d been afraid to touch her, not wanting to make it worse.

The second night… He couldn’t just ignore it. Both of them had occupied the bathroom together for a solid two hours. Jen had apologized and promised it would never happen again.

Then last night _happened._ With a sigh, he ‘rescued’ the bowl from her clutches.

Jen cast a sideways glance to Peter. “I was still eating that.” she plainly stated.

He held it up out of reach.

Dark brows angled downwards, frustration over what he was doing beginning to build. She was starting to get upset with him.

Peter could care less. “I’m saving you from yourself tonight,” _And saving myself from another nightmare in the bathroom again._ The noise of frequent flushing at night did not need the additional background sound of her heaving. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Peter,” she rarely called him that. It was stranger than the shortened version of his name that she’d adopted.

“You’ve had enough dairy tonight,” he punctuated his words by gently rubbing her stomach. “It’s not good for the baby.” _If looks could kill…_ He thought as he got up to put the dessert back in the freezer. _My head would have been pulled from my spine._ In truth, he admired her for not transforming and throttling him for taking away something she clearly had a craving for.

He could hear her footfalls behind him as he opened the freezer. “…You have got to be kidding me.”

Now, he understood why he wasn’t asked to do any runs for more of the frozen dessert. Her freezer was jam packed. There were pints of ice cream everywhere. Grabbing the closest container of rocky road, he scooped the remainder from the bowl back into the container.

“I’m still hungry,” she said. Her voice drifted over to him as he firmly closed the freezer door. He turned around and blocked the door with his body. “Really Peter? Do you think you can block me from my own freezer?!”

“I can order out – probably – if you’re still hungry.” he offered.

Instead, Jen shook her head. “You know what I want…” She adopted a pitiful look.

The taller man would not be moved. It didn’t matter how much Jennifer looked at him with those big brown eyes. He wasn’t going to give in. He hated dealing with sick Jennifer. Sick Jennifer was more nerve wracking than Angry Jennifer. “There are other foods out there. Tacos for one!”

Her nose crinkled at that.

“It’s not what I want!” As if punctuating her point, she stomped her right foot and folded her arms.

Mirroring her, Peter leaned against the fridge. His unblinking gaze was focused on her.

“You can’t stay there forever!” she nearly yelled.

“Oh, I can. We’ll see which one of us can stay here the longest.” When Peter looked back on this memory, he’d rightly call this one of the strangest battles of will he’d ever endured.

_Midnight_

Rustling sounds roused him from a sound sleep on the couch. Sitting up, he let the blankets pool around his bare waist, having shed the shirt before bed. Yawning faintly, he stretched and clambered off the couch.

Peter was unprepared for what he saw as he passed the kitchen. Stopping, he leaned back and took a second look. Jennifer was sitting on the floor, eating out of one of his tubs of yogurt, the second tub right beside her – yet unopened.

She was still wearing the flannel bottoms, but had traded her shirt for a sports bra. Clearing his throat so he wouldn’t startle her, Peter sat down next to Jennifer on the floor. “Hungry, huh?” he asked gently.

She had the spoon in her mouth, guilt causing her cheeks to redden. Silently, she nodded and scooped more of the yogurt into her waiting mouth.

“At least it’s healthier,” he admitted. Scooting a little closer, Peter stared directly down into the tub. “Umm… Jen?”

He thought that maybe he was seeing things.

“Hmm?”

For a moment, the webswinger struggled, trying to figure out how to voice his concerns. “Did you…add anything to this by chance?” he asked. He hoped so, otherwise he was going to have a serious issue in the morning.

Nodding, Jen swallowed her mouthful before speaking. “It was missing something,” she began, trying to excuse her unusual behavior. “So, I went and added chocolate chips to it.” She licked her lips.

“Jen, you do know that there’s peach at the bottom, don’t you?” Peter knew his nose was scrunching up a little as he watched her devour his favorite Greek yogurt.

She nodded quickly. “Yes, yes,” she replied, pointing at him with the spoon. “You told me I was eating too much ice cream. You’re probably right.” The flush in her cheeks deepened. “But I can’t help it. I’m always so hungry these days.”

“Uhh, yes. It shows, Jen,” he retorted, unable to erase the memory of seeing so many pints in the freezer. Watching her suddenly stiffen up, Peter wondered what was wrong.

Her mouth dropped open and she seemed to be struggling to say something. Looking at him, her face reddened further until the blush was spreading to her chest. Her eyes began to fill with tears.

“Y-You think so?” she asked quietly, looking down at herself. She dropped the spoon into the yogurt, pushing the container away from herself.

“Jen?” Peter leaned over to check on her. “Are you feeling sick?” The wallcrawler had no warning about the sudden backhanded slap he was on the receiving end of. At least, this time she did not hit him as hard. It still stung though.

Scooting away from her on the floor, he watched as Jen got to her feet and stood over him…fists clenched. A whimper escaped her before she irritably rubbed at her eyes, tears squeezing from behind the lids.

She was _angry_ and annoyed… and felt so disgusting now. Jennifer Walters was used to dealing with a barrage of emotions, but rage or fear seemed to be what always tipped her over the edge. Now, she was horrified – at what was happening to her body. “Peter Parker,” she ground out, her entire body beginning to shake.

“Y-You… How dare you just,” she choked, gasping for breath – her voice audibly trembling. Uncertainty flit through her eyes.

Alarmed, Peter scrambled to his feet and against his better judgment pulled her into a fierce hug.

Jennifer cried out – stiffening at the contact, but the sound was muffled against his chest. Her soft sobs mingled with unintelligible words filling the immediate area.

He frowned, thankful that he wasn’t able to fully understand her.

“Shh… Calm down please,” Peter begged, gently rubbing her back. Instead of helping like he hoped, her crying increased in volume. _At least…_ He thought warily. _I know the baby will have very strong lungs too._ This did not bode well for him. He wasn’t sure if he was adequately prepared for a sobbing Jen and fitfully crying newborn at the same time. He felt a chill race down his back at the thought. “Come on, Jenny.”

He rocked the two of them in place on the kitchen floor. The rocking seemed to work, and she slowed to a few sniffles, soothed by the motion.

She moved her head, adjusting so she could breathe easier.

“Mneh… Hate you,” she grumbled, sniffing loudly.

Remaining silent, Peter continued to rock her.

“I’m fat because of you,” she added. 

Now, he wasn’t sure who she was referring to. If it took him taking some of the blame for his counterpart’s actions to help her feel better… On second thought – he wanted to reconsider that.

“Fat… You said I’m fat…”

His eyes widened at her words. He hadn’t said that to her, so where did she get that idea? _Oh…_ he thought with chagrin. _I’m an idiot._ “Jenny,” he began. “You have too many pints in your freezer. You’re getting sick from eating too much ice cream. That’s all I meant.”

“Floor,” she mumbled.

It sounded like a question, so he pulled back from her a little.

“What?” Jennifer’s cheeks and forehead were red and copious amounts of mucus ran from her nose. Peter struggled to quickly school his features.

“Floor,” she hissed, still angry. “Sleep on the floor.”

Her features twisted up into a mucus coated snarl, she pulled away from him and stalked into the bathroom.

Peter remained silent…not even sure what had happened. That and now his chest was covered in her tears and snot. He grabbed a few paper towels in the kitchen to soap up his chest and clean himself off. He also picked up the tubs of yogurt and placed them back in the fridge.

_So she likes chocolate too?_ he thought with a faint smile. He wondered if she would like chocolate brownies. She could only eat so many of those easily. He carefully checked on the supply of chocolate chips in the fridge. _I need to pick up more._

He had just secured a painting job that paid cash, and he was due there at seven in the morning.

With a sigh, he returned to the couch and pulled the blanket off. Locating a spot on the floor, he smirked and walked in a circle three times before sitting down. Flinging the blanket over himself again, he went back to sleep.

_Hours Later_

A quick shower later, Peter was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for himself and Jen. He located some of her storage containers in the cabinets and was in the middle of whipping together healthier snacks for her. The celery looked a bit on the limp side, but he carefully cleaned it up and put a generous helping of crunchy peanut butter in the container with it. Stepping back to the stove, he flipped the French Toast with a wooden spatula. He’d been surprised to find out that half of Jen’s pans were non-stick.

He’d chopped up a few apples, drizzling lemon juice on them so they didn’t brown. Two sandwiches, bulging with meat and cheese were packed in separate containers. Post-it notes were slapped on the lids. Loading all of the snacks up in the fridge for her to enjoy later, he also turned the bacon over in a separate skillet and finished working on the scrambled eggs in a third pan.

Once the food was done, he served everything up on plates – leaving them on the counter – and checked the cabinets for the crackers he’d seen there the other day. Pulling out a sleeve of saltines, he plodded to Jen’s bedroom.

She was sprawled out in bed, her head thrown to one side. Drool was dripping out of her mouth and so close, he could hear a soft snore.

“Jenny. Hey, time to wake up,” he spoke softly. The clock on her nightstand read 5:30AM.

When her eyes fluttered open, she squinted. “Pete?” she asked, still disoriented.

He helped her slowly sit up in bed. “Brought you a snack,” he explained before handing her the entire sleeve of saltines. “Eat up. When you’re done, I have breakfast for us before I leave.”

He propped her up with pillows before leaving her room. Thankfully, he only had to wait ten minutes before she emerged from the bedroom. She was scratching her stomach and gave him a fairly lazy smile before walking into the bathroom. _Okay… Not sick this morning._ He had begun researching ways to help her with the persistent morning sickness after he got settled into her apartment.

He’d left her food in the microwave so it would stay warm. By the time she came out of the bathroom, he was sitting at the table and had just bitten into a second piece of bacon.

“You said something about breakfast?” she asked. She was still wiping sleep out of her eyes, her hair in disarray.

Nodding, he stood up. “Yeah. Go take a seat. I’ll grab it for you.”

That suit her well, as she wasn’t too willing to move around that much this morning.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She sat down, and rested her head on her arms.

“Jen?” he asked.

He returned with the plate and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, sit up now.”

She did, yawning widely.

“I know it’s early, but I wanted to make sure you ate before I left.”

She nodded in understanding, her eyes lighting up as she saw her plate.

“What’s all this?” She was so confused. She never remembered Peter ever making her breakfast…unless pouring cereal into a bowl counted. Her ex-boyfriend never bothered to add milk for her. Her brain was a little foggy this morning, but as she looked up into Peter’s bearded and smiling face, she remembered all the more – this was not the man she knew.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he needlessly pointed out, watching as Jen cut into her French toast and took a bite. Her eyes were half closed. “My job starts at seven and ends at two, so I have to get out of here soon.”

He moved to retrieve some orange juice for her. “I’m not sure what you normally have in the morning,” he said, though he had an idea. Jen seemed to have a strange fascinating with Lucky Charms. There were three boxes on top of her fridge. The milk smelled like it was about to go sour, so he made a mental checklist of items he needed to buy tonight for her.

“Oh,” she stuffed a huge piece of the French toast in her mouth. “That’s easy. Oatmeal.”

_That…_ was not what he expected to hear. “Really?” he asked, incredulity written all over his face. “I noticed you had all those boxes of – um –”

Jen smirked after she swallowed.

“Those aren’t mine, if you mean the Lucky Charms,” she lightly shrugged. “Those belonged to P – Uhh... Other you.” Not wanting to acknowledge the sudden awkwardness again, Jen continued talking. “I just… Never got around to throwing them out.”

Peter nodded quietly. He added another item to his mental list of things to do.

“I think this is better than oatmeal, don’t you?” he asked. Peter checked the clock then. One strip of bacon remained on his plate, and he moved it to Jen’s. “Time to go,” he announced. He felt uncomfortable at the idea of leaving her alone, but needed to work. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Rounding the table to her chair, he leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Remember, there are snacks in the fridge for you if you’re hungry.” He gently rubbed her belly then. “Have a good morning, Jen. Be good to mama, Baby!”

Her mouth was hanging open even after the door closed behind him. Bowing her head, she hugged herself, fighting to keep the tears at bay. It was difficult.

She regretted how much she’d second-guessed the decision to let him live there. The fears growing in her heart were slowly wilting over time. Peter’s presence had brought warmth into her life, and he nearly fell over himself trying to help her. That wasn’t what the problem was.

In her head she knew he wasn’t the same man, but in her heart… The ache over Peter’s death had lingered. This _stranger_ only made things more difficult for her.

He knew he needed to get to work early in the morning, but he got out of bed even _earlier_ to make sure that she had breakfast. He was concerned about her stomach being upset and kept looking for ways to make her feel better. He frequently rubbed her belly and spoke to the baby… Her eyes moistened, tears spilling down her cheeks then.

The baby wasn’t even _his_ , but he wholeheartedly had taken over the responsibility of caring for her and an unborn child.

_I don’t know how the ‘me’ from his universe was…_ she sniffled. _But I hope she would have treated him better…_ Peter deserved to receive back what he gave. She only hoped that he had such loving care at home.

Then…guilt began to gnaw at her. It was wonderful if he had a good life back home, but now he was _stuck_ here. Trapped…at least that’s how she felt. Did he feel the same?

Minutes ticked by slowly before she was able to console herself. _I need to calm down..._ she thought. Grimacing, she remembered what he’d told her. ‘Have a good morning.’ Her nose twitched a little, and she lifted her head. Reaching out, she grabbed the strip of bacon he’d placed on her plate.

It turned out to be one of the best breakfasts she’d had in a very long time.

_Noon_

Stretched out on the couch, cuddling Peter’s pillow to her chest, Jen was propped up on pillows from her bedroom and watching television. She’d been pleasantly surprised to find all of the treats and snacks that were sitting in the fridge waiting for her. Between that and the saltines, she and her stomach had a pleasant day so far. She yawned a little, stretching out her short legs. When she returned to work, she needed to figure out how to get a second bed in here. If not a bed, then a mattress.

_It's so unfair that he sleeps on this couch._ It was comfortable enough, but that wasn’t the point. While she had been inconvenienced by having to share a bathroom and kitchen, she had not shared sleeping quarters with him. To be fair though, he never asked, just assumed that his spot was the couch. _There’s no way he can get a full night’s sleep on this…_

Squeezing the pillow a bit tighter, she was slowly becoming engrossed in the cooking show. The soft knock on her front door surprised her, and she climbed off the couch. Padding over to the door, she stretched up to peer through the peephole before unlocking the door – throwing it wide.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Becca smirked down at her friend. “How are you feeling?”

Instead of responding, Jen stepped a short way out her apartment door and hugged her friend.

“Okay, I take that as not good?” Pulling back in the hug, she studied Jen’s face. “Should we talk inside?”

The petite brunette nodded, and both of them stepped into the apartment. “Tell me then,” Jen lowered her head. “Is everything working out okay with Mister Creep?” That seemed to get a reaction.

Her friend seemed to be _bristling_ at the unflattering nickname. “Don’t call him that,” Defensively, Jennifer crossed her arms. She struggled with what to say and instead turned around and walked back to the couch. She repositioned her pillows and plopped herself back down into the nest. “You can…sit down if you want.”

Nodding quietly, Becca walked over and sat down next to Jen. She noticed her friend was idly rubbing her belly while watching the show on the screen.

It was a very strange sight. Two weeks ago, she’d had absolutely no clue that her friend Jess was a lawyer named Jennifer, nor was there any clue of a pregnancy. Now that the ‘cat’ was out of the bag, Jennifer didn’t need to hide, at least not from her.

_She said she was a criminal defense attorney…_ but, Becca had some questions. If Jen was a criminal defense attorney, was it a present or prior client that she was hiding from? She remembered what Peter had stated in the hospital… that Jen was a hero.

How was that even possible? Jen didn’t look like she could harm a fly, let alone be considered powerful enough to be around Spiderman and his ilk. _Wait…_ Becca was beginning to understand a few things. _Was that why she was so upset over Spiderman’s death?_ That had to be the only explanation. _Were they that close?_

Her attention swiveled to where Jennifer’s hand was resting. Realization was settling in, and Becca sunk down in her seat…her cheeks growing warm. How was she supposed to even ask something like _that_?

_Is it even possible?_ she wondered. Before she had a chance to break through the silence, Jennifer spoke.

“I’m not sure how I am right now,” she worried at her bottom lip, a pensive expression settling on her features. “Other than content and full.” She glanced at Becca a bit sheepish, before looking at the screen again. “Pete left a lot of food in the fridge for us,” her right hand lightly pat her belly. “And saltines.”

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled heavily, sinking back into the pillows. “It’s not…fair that he’s doing all of this – only for me.”

“I don’t,” Becca’s voice came out in a croak, not at all what she expected. Her mouth had dried out at the thought that her friend and Spiderman had…been so close. Clearing her throat a little, she rubbed her neck lightly.

“You okay, Becca?” Jennifer looked over in concern. She moved to extract herself from the warm nest again, and Becca bounced out of her seat, waving wildly.

“No! No, I’m fine,” Becca replied. She noticed the curious glint that lit up Jennifer’s stare then.

“If you’re sure,” Jen replied. Back into the nest the smaller woman sank, not the least bit bothered.

“If I can get some water though,” her voice was still rough. She paid attention as Jennifer pointed her towards the kitchen, and she headed in that direction. She easily found a glass and ran it under the tap. A series of post-its stuck on the front of the fridge drew her attention.

Once she filled the glass, she shut off the tap and walked closer to the fridge. All of the little messages had smilies written at the end of them. “Hey Jess – I mean Jen?” she leaned out of the kitchen and made eye contact. “Sorry about that. Where did all of these notes come from?” Curiously, she noticed her friend begin to blush.

“Umm… They’re from Pete. He wanted to remind me to eat the snacks in the fridge before he came back today,” Becca’s dark brows rose sharply. “What?”

“You need help remembering when to eat? Really, Jennifer?” The flush on her friend’s face deepened and when she responded, it was inaudible. “I’m sorry? What was that?”

“He’s just…concerned… is all. He doesn’t want me to get sick or feel sick or --,”

A sudden loud rattling sound right at the front door startled both women.

“Is he supposed to be back now?”

Concerned, Jennifer carefully got to her feet. “No. He’s not supposed to come back until around 2PM,” As she spoke, Becca was searching through the cabinets and pulled out a heavy cast iron pan. “At least, I didn’t think he was coming back so soon.” Her eyes widened as Becca stalked out of the kitchen.

“Jennifer, get the phone, in case we have to call 9-1-1,” Becca slipped behind the door, waiting as the lock clicked. Prepared to go into battle, she raised the pan above her head to have enough leverage to strike. When the door opened, she let out a little grunt at the exertion and swung. The person entering the apartment dropped down into a crouch before the pan had time to connect. “I… I missed!”

It took a moment for Becca to even recognize the man who was literally stretched out on the floor.

“I’m glad you did,” Peter stated, looking up at her and balancing his weight on his fingertips and toes. “I didn’t know you were _this_ upset at me, Jen,” he continued, not looking at her. “I even got you more yogurt to apologize.”

Jennifer stood still, holding the phone in her hands. Her eyes rounded as she instantly recognized the man stepping through the door. She hadn’t been able to warn him in time. Thankfully, his reflexes saved him from a nasty head injury. “I didn’t… I… Pete.”

She noticed all of the bags he was dealing with and understood why he had taken so long to come in the door. “I’m… Ugh! Becca!” Her features scrunched up in displeasure.

“I brought eggs,” Peter began. “I don’t know if they’re already scrambled now though.” He heard the clang as Becca dropped the pan.

Finally, able to shake off the shock, she rushed to him. “I am **_so_** sorry! You have to believe me. We didn’t know who or what was coming through the door.” She moved to help him with all the bags.

“Ah… Sorry. Nice to meet you,” Peter said as he stood up. “Peter Parker, you already know my other self. Photojournalist, painter, would be acrobat. Oh and,” With this he gestured to Jennifer. “Father of her child.”

He grumbled a bit. “Tried to bring back food early and nearly swatted to death.” Sighing, he grudgingly accepted Becca’s help to bring in the bags. Ducking back outside the apartment door, he retrieved a twenty-four case of canned ginger ale. 

Once more, Becca’s eyes widened. _So, it’s true._ Peter had unknowingly answered a question she had been dealing with off and on since she’d been in the apartment today. It was no wonder that Jennifer looked so forlorn…even now.

“Pete,” Jennifer responded. She was certain that her body’s ability to blush had been exhausted. Nope. Not in the least. She could feel the heat suffusing her face and ears. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” _Just you are enough._ She wanted to voice her thoughts, but held back.

“You say that now, but wait until you taste dinner,” he said. Peter noticed how she suddenly straightened up at those words and laughed. “I was thinking of ordering Chinese food for dinner tonight. But I don’t want it to –”

“Upset my stomach,” she added on. “I know. Thank you.” She stepped closer to help with the bags, rolling her eyes when she was given a very light bag. “I’m a lot stronger than that, Pete.”

He paused in his forward stride towards her kitchen and nodded in agreement.

“Glad it wasn’t you behind that door Jen,” he flashed a wink at her. “Doubt I could have dodged that.”

She offered a weak smile in response as he walked into the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t have flattened you, Pete.” Peter leaned out of the kitchen, dramatically clutching his chest. “Honest!” She sighed softly, following him to the kitchen with Becca. “I pull my punches more often than not. You know that.”

Peter resisted the urge to bring up his face, which was thankfully bruise free, from her first slap. He was grateful that he didn’t have any mark on him from her emotional breakdown earlier that morning. “Yeah… You still are one of the good guys. Even if you aren’t green.”

Becca quietly set one of the bags down on the counter. Her right brow rose sharply at that.

Jennifer scoffed. “Not for now,” she stated pointing at her belly. “It’s not safe for us.”

Peter nodded quietly.

“Now then… what are we having for dinner?” He snorted. “Becca is staying, right Becca?” Jen looked at her friend, a big smile in place.

Becca nodded. How could she say no to that?

_Six PM_

“How do they taste?” Peter asked, balling up a dish towel in his hands. The counter and part of the floor had a light dusting of flour. The young hero hadn’t been able to both clean and cook so now there was a pile of dishes in the sink. Baking brownies was messy business, especially when you doubled up the batch. The moan that came from Jennifer, at that point, wasn’t surprising. “I take it that you like them?”

Her mouth was full of double fudge brownie, so she enthusiastically nodded in response.

“They’re very good,” Becca supplied. She was struggling to hold back laughter at how excited Jennifer was over the brownies. “Thank you, Peter.”

It was later than he would have preferred to cook. Shortly after putting everything away, he had collapsed on the couch.

Jennifer had been upset at losing her comfortable nest, but decided to get some sleep in her bedroom. That left Becca alone in the apartment.

She sat down on the floor next to the couch and leaned against it, managing to get some shut-eye as well.

Peter decided to make brownies first because he claimed they would ‘soothe the savage beast’. Becca hadn’t understood it then, but she was beginning to get an idea now.

Jennifer was _angry_ when she was hungry. The smaller brunette had mentioned being hungry at least twice since Becca had been there. Each time Peter gave Jen something to hold her, but it was temporary. The brownies on the other hand – the sweet and sticky treat had slowed her down considerably.

The young man smoothly pulled the plate with the brownies away and put them in a container in the fridge. He checked in the oven for a moment. “Dinner’s almost done.”

Jennifer hummed in response, still dealing with her treats.

Setting a timer on his watch, he walked over to the table and sat down. “Thanks for staying for dinner,” he said to Becca. “And sorry for falling asleep like that.” Peter scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s fine.” She stifled a yawn. “I’m glad I came to see how Jess – I mean Jen,” she directed her gaze to Jennifer. “Sorry about that Jen.”

Her friend nodded in response.

“What I meant to say Peter is that I’m glad I came to see how Jen was doing. She told me you were working today, and I started getting worried.”

Peter nodded in agreement at that, stretching and running his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah. The idea of leaving her alone worried me more than I wanted to admit.” It had been a struggle to complete his paint job. He kept having to deal with nightmare scenarios of what could happen to her while he was gone. Fear made him work harder than he ever had, and he begged to leave the job early.

He didn’t want to tell Jennifer that he’d mentioned his concerns about the baby to his new boss and been allowed to leave work early. He completed more than he needed to for the day, thankfully.

His first stop on his way home was the grocery store. If anyone thought that a man holding several bags of groceries on the bus was an odd sight, no one said anything. “I’m glad you checked on her,” he looked at Jennifer.

She’d become withdrawn during the exchange, uncomfortable with all of the attention she was being showered with. “Don’t worry,” she said, absently. “I’m back at work on Monday.” She didn’t seem excited about that at all.

“We really miss you. We’re looking forward to you coming back,” Becca chimed in, noticing the mood shift in her friend. “You know that, right?” The silence was unusual for her friend, who had displayed a bubbly personality since the first day they’d met.

Quietly, Peter walked over and knelt next to Jennifer. He had hazy memories of the Jen that he knew – in a melancholy mood. They were rare, not lasting long after he delivered one of his sarcastic comments. At the moment, Jen didn’t need his wise-cracks.

Most of his memories of Jen weren’t with her in this human form either. He reached over, hugging her where she sat. He expected her to tell him to leave her be, but when he felt her fingers dig into his shirt, he leaned closer. The young hero was uncertain of what he could do. “Do you want to stay here?” He asked gently. It was completely against her protests at the hospital earlier that week.

Becca stepped around the table in concern, but stopped in her tracks. What _could_ she do to help? Instead, she remained where she stood, watching them. She had not spent much time at all around Peter and was still suspicious about him, but Jen didn’t share her views.

“Yes… No,” Jennifer shook her head. “I don’t know.” Her hold on Peter’s body tightened, and she greedily inhaled his scent. She felt tears stinging her eyes. “I don’t know,” Worrying her bottom lip, she leaned back from the hug. “…I-I’m so sorry, Pete.”

Confusion registered on his face at her words.

“I need to go back. I have to… but I don’t want to,” she shook her head. “Not to that place.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t _stand_ it, at all Peter.”

She lowered her eyes. “I feel so _vulnerable_ there… And weak,” She bit into her bottom lip hard, shaking. “I’m so _helpless_ , and can’t… I…” Her voice was beginning to crack.

Once again, the webslinger found himself struggling to help Jennifer work through an emotional upheaval. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself trying to steer a boat by controlling the direction of the sails. Her moods were more unpredictable than he’d ever seen. _Although…_ he thought, wryly. _She’s also more pregnant than I’ve ever seen before_.

“If I do that, it’ll put more pressure on you,” she sounded strained. “You’re… suffering… here already, and I don’t want to add to it.”

Brown bushy brows rose at her words. Rising to stand, carefully, Peter pulled Jennifer out of her seat and slowly led her to sit on the couch. “Becca,” he looked over at the perplexed young woman. “Please turn down the burners.”

Feeling out of place, Becca cleared her throat. “I’ll just watch the food to make sure it’s done on time, yeah?” Not waiting for a response, she only saw a glimpse of gratitude in his eyes before she disappeared into the kitchen.

Now that they were on the couch, Peter tried to make eye-contact with Jen. She was leaning forward, resting her head in her hands. “Jen,” Peter spoke softly, resting his right hand on her lower back. He slowly began to move his hand in soothing circles on her back. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He leaned down, trying to peek at her through her fingers, but she turned her head away. “I’m not suffering at all… Not unless you’re referring to,” he allowed his words to trail off, hoping to draw a response out of her. He slowly got a glimpse of one wet eye. “The yogurt perhaps?” _Or my chips._ He knew the things hadn’t eaten themselves. He wasn’t upset at her about food.

“You’re stuck on the couch,” Jennifer offered at first.

“Well, last night, it was the floor,” he remarked. He noticed her flinch, but pressed on. “And my back felt great this morning!”

“I keep getting up at night, and it wakes you up,” she countered.

Peter shrugged. “You didn’t throw up this morning,” he wiggled his brows then. “I slept like a rock.”

She laughed weakly. “So did I,” sighing, she looked away again. “You don’t belong here.” She frowned. “I know you’re stuck here with me because of that. I’m so sorry, Peter.”

“That…was not your fault at all. I’m not ‘stuck’ or trapped here either,” his voice implored her to understand. “I told you I was going to help you and the baby. That’s what I plan to do.”

Jennifer sadly shook her head. “How?” She asked, her voice gaining strength. “How can you care for a child that’s not your own so easily?! The Peter I know didn’t even want this baby! He… H-He wanted me to,” Her face was already flushed, and she put a hand over her mouth.

She didn’t dare say anything more. She couldn’t! She didn’t want to remember just how vehement her ex-boyfriend had been over ‘ridding’ himself of his own child.

Stung at her words, Peter leaned away from her then. “I…am not him,” he pinched his brow, trying to calm himself down now. Getting angry with her wouldn’t solve any problems – only make new ones. “I wouldn’t just leave you and the baby like that Jen and you know it!”

The lack of physical contact bothered her immensely, and suddenly angry, she lashed out at him. “You say it now, Peter… But you’ll leave soon enough too,” her tone of voice was cryptic – resigned even. “Men always _claim_ they’ll stay… You know it’s not the truth. You wouldn’t like raising someone else’s…” she trailed off, burying her face in her hands again.

Wordlessly, Peter got off the couch. Looking down at Jennifer then, his lips thinned into a line. Shaking his head and running fingers through his hair, he turned away from her and walked straight to the front door.

Hearing the lock disengage, Jennifer looked up. Peter glanced back at her once before walking out the door and closing it behind himself. The brunette sat stock still on the couch – not believing what she was seeing. He was really doing exactly what she’d said he would… What she had _driven_ him to do.

“Jennifer?” Becca asked quietly, stepping further away from the kitchen. She’d been unable to ignore the exchange, peering around the corner – only to see Peter walk out the front door.

“He…left,” Jen responded to her friend. “I… I-I told him he’d just leave me and… He did.” Her eyes welled up with tears. “It’s just like what _he_ did before…” The anger rolling to the surface finally boiled over.

“They _always_ leave!” she screamed, slamming her fist into the coffee table. She didn’t even register the sound as the wooden table split right down the center, both halves crashing to the floor. “Why!? Why do they _do_ this?!”

Becca’s eyes widened and grew round like that of an owl. She pressed back against the wall. Just _what_ was happening now?! She had doubted before when Peter called her friend a ‘hero’. Now she was beginning to wonder just what Jennifer’s abilities were.

Minutes ticked by slowly as the smaller woman struggled to contain herself. She was upset and _so_ angry. Her own words were coming back to bite her. If Peter never came back, she wouldn’t blame him. _This is my fault…_ She recognized with chagrin. _I ran him off…_ She was beginning to feel ill now, her rage slowly beginning to wear off. _I ran off my Peter too… And everyone else._ Jennifer knew she’d been suffering with feelings of guilt and frustration ever since she’d had to abandon her previous post.

She was vulnerable now. So far…the only person that she’d lashed out at in _months_ had to be – of course – Peter Parker. The near doppelganger of her deceased ex.

Her stomach felt as if it was trying to turn over and she slowly rose from the couch, holding her belly. Jen was hunched over a little, an expression of discomfort on her tear-streaked face.

“Jennifer?” Becca asked, still pressed against the wall. She quieted again as her friend shook her head and headed towards the bathroom. After the door clicked closed, Becca released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her nose twitched then, smelling something from the kitchen. Darting back into the room, she worried that the food might have begun to burn.

_E 18 th Street, Turning to Avenue H_

Kicking cans always made things feel better. Seeing one, he gave it a light kick with his right foot. Repeating it with his left, he worked to keep the aluminum can right between his feet. Peter let out a long sigh, staring at the ground directly underfoot as he walked. He felt bad for stepping outside, but figured both of them needed a breather. He wasn’t going to lie and claim that her words hadn’t _hurt_.

The true gravity of what he’d gotten himself into was just fully settling in. Not only was he dealing with guilt over all he’d left behind… but now he was struggling with a new feeling of loss. He knew that he had bonded with the baby.

The budding affection had been slight, but he liked the idea of helping to raise the child. Jen was right though… No matter how he felt about the baby, it wasn’t _his_. She was carrying the child of her ex. Her deceased former lover. Not him. He lifted his eyes a little as he walked, kicking the can more.

Even that motion made him think of what the future held for him. If he stayed here, life would be tricky…true. It wasn’t safe for Jen for him to resume his previous activity as a superhero. Life in general was going to be a lot harder for both of them. She was trying to lay low – for reasons that she hadn’t disclosed yet.

Were he a betting man, he would assume it had something to do with the pregnancy.

_Did I make it harder for you here Jenny?_ He stopped for a moment, staring at the night sky. Inhaling deeply, he tucked his hands into his pockets. _What would you be doing if I wasn’t here?_

He knew she had been overworking herself and not eating properly. It was why she’d passed out.

Something she said that first night had tugged fiercely at a part of him he thought had died. _She told me if she went to sleep that she would wake…and I’d be gone_. Would she have ended up in the hospital that night if she hadn’t gotten so upset at the sight of him?

_Would she have been worse off?_ He thought so. It had been a struggle to help her when she repeatedly threw up meals. Her morning sickness hadn’t been labeled as severe enough that she needed medication on a regular basis to treat. Were it up to him, she would have received treatment. He didn’t have that much say in her care though. He did make sure that she had her vitamin daily, had even been buying things to help her delicate stomach. After they got him moved in, her drugs from the hospital had worn off. Everything had been so touch and go.

_Her diet likely has a big impact on all of this…_ Squeezing his eyes shut, he continued walking. She liked sweets…in copious amounts. He’d never seen her consume so much sugar in a single sitting. _Did Jen watch what she ate when we worked together?_ He wasn’t sure.

Eventually, he meandered far enough that he spotted a sign. He squinted to read it. ‘Collins Park. Established 1975.’ Intrigued, he walked into the park. He hadn’t known this place was here. Then again, he’d never been to this part of the country before either. _Does Jen even know this is here?_

His long legs ate up the distance fast as he found himself investigating the park from end to end. He easily found the baseball diamond and various picnic tables. He kept exploring. Eventually, he stumbled on a playground. It was close to the entry point he’d passed. How had he missed that?

Swallowing thickly, he blinked rapidly. He tried very hard not to imagine a little girl – that looked so much like Jen… just exploring. No matter his wishes, he saw himself helping her climb up to get on the slide and then rushing to the other end to catch her as she slid down.

Walking over to the slide, he sat down on the ground next to it. He felt assorted woodchips digging into his backside but didn’t care. _Why can’t I get this out of my head?_

That image he’d seen in the hospital…on the ultrasound. He felt himself smiling faintly even as his emotions were in turmoil. He’d seen small hands on the screen…a foot. He remembered the feel of Jen squeezing his hand. He found a chance to help her. He saw – a renewed sense of purpose. “There’s nothing for me back home,” he acknowledged with a grimace. Things were far different now than they’d been.

He thought again of the Knotts, MJ, and Stasie.

Peter wasn’t certain how long he’d sat there, but he began feeling stiff. Standing, he brushed the dirt off himself as best he could and headed home. _Home_ … He thought. Nothing was certain right now. His daily life was touch and go… But did he feel like he was going home? His lips curled up at the corners. _No stability at all. Will likely be more fights in the future._

He had a mission now. His smile faltered just a little. _I need to do something to apologize for leaving like that._

Thankfully, he knew what Jen’s weakness was.

_Jen’s Apartment_

Becca sat quietly on the bed next to Jen as her friend slept. She’d begun to wring her hands as she noticed the time on the clock. There was a strong possibility that she’d have to spend the night.

Earlier, she’d found Jennifer bent over the sink in the bathroom, retching. Her friend was clinging to the counter, trying not to lose her balance. Jen had vomited all over the place, even in the tub. _How_ that happened, Becca wasn’t going to try to figure out. Waiting several minutes after Jennifer seemed done, she helped her friend get into bed. She’d left only to clean up the bathroom and get a glass of water.

Jennifer had gratefully accepted the glass, holding it against her forehead first. “So cool,” she mumbled. She only taken a few tentative sips before lying down again. “You c’n go home, Rebecca,” Jennifer told her. “I’ll b’fine.”

Instead, Becca had insisted she could stay until Peter returned.

Now though, she was wondering just _when_ he would be back. _Oh well_ … She thought, frowning at the volume of Jen’s snoring. _How can he sleep through that?!_ Then, she blushed. She wasn’t exactly sure what the nature of their relationship was. Although Jen had mentioned him sleeping on the couch earlier. Carefully nudging Jen into a better sleeping position, she was relieved when the snoring stopped immediately.

Hearing the door unlock, Becca almost jumped for joy.

“Jen?” Peter called. He was holding a small plastic bag in his left hand.

The living room was dimly lit by a single lamp. Becca stepped out of Jen’s room. “She’s in here,” she spoke softly. “She’s sleeping right now, so don’t wake her up, please.”

Locating the second lamp, Peter switched it on. “Already?” He checked his watch. “It’s barely past 9pm,” Then, he paused…staring at the coffee table – which was split in two. “Umm…?” He pointed to it with his free hand.

“Jen.” Becca gave as means of explanation. “She was furious when you left and…well,” she shrugged. What explanation did she have other than that?

Peter’s eyes widened – comically so. “She didn’t change g – umm. She didn’t change colors, did she?”

Becca blinked rapidly, peering up at him. “Why on earth would she do that?”

Peter averted his gaze immediately. “I’ll chuck this up into the freezer then.” Lifting the small bag, he walked to the kitchen.

“What did you get?”

Instead of responding, Peter exhaled sharply and pulled open the freezer. He could hear a choking sound behind him but chose to ignore it. With a bit of wrangling, he was able to stuff the box of Nestle’s Crunch Ice Cream Bars into the freezer and completely close the door. When he turned around, he was greeted with Becca’s incredulous stare.

“You like the sweet stuff, I take it?”

Smiling faintly, he shook his head. “No. None of it is mine,” He discarded the plastic bag and walked towards Jen’s room. “Not unless she wants to share.”

Sitting next to Jen on the bed, Peter carefully felt her forehead for signs of fever. “Feels a little warm,” he spoke softly. He lifted his head and looked at Becca. “She was really tired, huh?”

“She got pretty sick too,” Becca pulled a face when Peter whipped around to look at her. “It was all over the place, even the bathtub.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but a husky voice stopped him.

“So loud,” Jennifer mumbled. She inhaled deeply through her nose. “Pete…”

He could feel her fingers grab onto part of his shirt. “Yes… I’m back. I’m going to get something to help your stomach.”

Instead of letting go, her grip tightened, brows furrowing together.

“H-Hey!” He tried to scoot away. “Jen, I have to get up to –”

“No,” her voice was beginning to whine. “Don’t leave.” She tugged on his shirt. “I’m sorry…” Her eyes were half open.

Turning a little, he looked at Becca. “Can you get me some of the saltines in the cabinet over the sink? And one of the cans of soda I brought in?”

Becca nodded and left the room.

Redirecting his attention to Jennifer, he carefully worked her fingers free of his shirt. “It’s okay. There’s no need,” he began. Peter didn’t want them to rehash it.

Big brown eyes locked with his.

“I just want you to feel better.”

“This,” she straightened up where she lay, slowly rolling to her back. “It’s scary.”

Internally, Peter sighed. He did not want her to get upset again. Reaching over, he pulled back the blanket she was under. He carefully tugged up her shirt and gently began rubbing her belly. “Shh,” he spoke, trying to soothe her before the discussion went any further.

Her eyes began drooping a little.

“Feel better, Jen.”

Trying to focus blearily on him, Jennifer partially lifted a brow. “No fair,” she managed. “Found my weak spot.” His hand was so _warm_. The rhythmic stimulation on her abdomen was lulling her back to sleep.

“Ha!” Peter said, softly. “I knew I’d find it eventually, my friend.”

She was nearly purring when Becca quietly reentered the room.

“Pfft,” Jennifer replied. “It figures, web h-head. I get a little soft in the middle…”

“I got what you asked for,” Becca spoke up.

Peter accepted the crackers and soda carefully, setting them on Jen’s night table. Then, he returned to his ministrations. 

“Thanks. I’m going to let you out shortly,” his voice held amusement. “Just as soon as I put Jenny here to bed.”

“Paaaarker,” Jen yawned; her words drawn out. “You can’t jus…” Her eyes were already closing.

“Annd… Sleep,” Peter struggled to hold back a laugh as his petite friend proceeded to do just that. Soon thereafter, he heard soft snores. Gingerly, he pulled a blanket back over her and got off the bed. Then he reached over and turned off her bedside lamp.

Looking to Becca, he put a finger to his lips, gesturing for them to head out the bedroom. After they both left, Peter quietly closed the door behind himself. “Okay. I’m going to let you out of here. Thanks so much for waiting up for me.”

“No problem,” Becca replied. “The food is in containers in the fridge.” She gave him a side-eyed glare. “Why did you feel the need to cook so much?!”

Coughing faintly, Peter scratched behind his head. “Jenny always has a big appetite. Don’t let her size fool you.” Grinning all the same, he escorted Becca to the front door and let her out. Locking the door behind her, he sighed and walked over to the couch to set up his bed for the night. After a few days, he was beginning to remember where Jen stored her things. Locating a fresh bedsheet and a new pillowcase, he set them down and walked into the bathroom with his backpack.

When he heard Jen was sick, he was expecting to find some indication…but the bathroom looked cleaner than before he left.

He dug out a very oversized t-shirt to sleep in and stripped down to his boxers and socks. _I suppose I should take advantage and get an early night too._ Locating his toothbrush, he began to clean his mouth out. Once he was done, he returned to the couch and sunk down into the cushions.

_Three Hours Later_

He hadn’t been asleep long…maybe a few hours when he felt himself being shaken awake.

“Are you asleep?”

The question shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. Instead of replying, he burrowed deeper into his sheets…only to nearly be hauled off the couch. “Uhh! I’m up!”

Halfway hanging off the couch, he looked up at Jennifer. “What’s wrong, Jen?”

She looked embarrassed, her cheeks reddening in patches.

“Jen?”

“Umm… Can you do me a favor?” She fidgeted, looking away from him.

Holding down a sigh, he nodded.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I woke up and… A-And I don’t feel,” she placed a hand over her eyes. “I don’t feel comfortable alone. Can you join me please?”

“What are you asking exactly?” He watched as Jen drew in a deep breath and appeared to be counting under her breath. “I’m sorry?”

“Please, Pete. I _need_ you.” the trembling in her voice was easy to distinguish.

His brows rose at that.

“Please sleep with me.”

\--

**Author’s Note:** Thank you so much for sticking around. I hope you enjoyed! Suggestions, comments or feedback? I welcome it all! I _really_ love constructive criticism. If anyone wants to be a beta for me (because I _really_ need one), feel free to PM me about it. Be aware though that my chapters are massive.

**On A Personal Note:** I’ll be on hiatus for a bit to get myself back in working order mentally. I shouldn’t be gone longer than a few weeks. It’s become increasingly frustrating to get the chapters for “Navigating The Curve” hammered out and then fully edited. I want to get all of it done in a day, but that’s not in line with reality.

I’m also working on “Open Arms”, which is more canon-esque and therefore twice as frustrating to pen properly. I’ve been posting weekly on that one and every two weeks on “Navigating The Curve”, and I got overwhelmed.

I have no problem with the creation phase of the chapters, but the editing can be a bummer. Especially with no help.

I’ll be back soon though. I already have part of chapter 6 done, unedited of course.

Be well, and I’ll see you when I get back! XXO

~J. Lyst


	6. Stand By Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “…Should I even ask why you’re in a thong?” 
> 
> “No…you may not, webhead.” Jen responded through gritted teeth. She was already blushing in embarrassment.
> 
> “Though I shouldn’t be that surprised.” Peter continued, as if he hadn’t heard her. “In your old costumes, I always wondered what could fit under there.”
> 
> “What makes you think there was ever anything else there, Spider?” Her voice had dropped an octave.

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own Marvel. I like Marvel though. That should be enough to protect me from a lawsuit, right? Right??

 **Warnings:** Does fluff count as a hazardous material? I almost self-combusted from this chapter.

 **Triggers:** None. Wait, no, that’s a lie. You might laugh out loud or cover your eyes from the sheer sap here. You’ve been warned.

Navigating The Curve

By Juliette Lyst

Stand By Me

Yawning widely, Peter struggled to rub sleep out of his eyes. What did he think he was doing really? He must have started losing his mind. Painting jobs in the morning and now he was looking for jobs at night. He was trying to find a way to hustle to get just a little more cash. The situation in the bedroom was still as awkward as it had been the first night. Peter usually ended up slipping out of the bed to sleep on the floor at night.

It appeared…that Jennifer was a hugger, a clingy hugger at that. She liked to press right up against him and squeeze. He needed a bed, true – but he was not so desperate for one that he was going to subject himself to bone-crushing hugs in the night. So far, he’d been able to substitute a firm pillow for his own body…but that left him no space at all in the bed. He also wondered if Jennifer had some extra sense to let her know when he tried to leave the room.

Twice now… _Twice_ Peter had tried to escape the room, only for Jennifer to whimper, roll over and ask him if he was alright. It was sweet, endearing even – but he realized that escape in the night was nigh. She’d gotten pretty clingy in the daytime too. Now, it seemed that he couldn’t move anywhere in the apartment without her suddenly appearing.

Naps were a welcome escape for them both, but she kept creeping over to his side of the bed. To protect himself, Peter had intently formed a wall of pillows between them at one point once Jen was asleep. He might as well have made that barrier out of rice paper. As soon as the full length of his body hit the sheets, she was on top of him. He was increasingly uncomfortable, but wasn’t sure how to tell her. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings or irritate her.

He just wanted to know why she kept trying to hold him in her sleep. He as too afraid of the answer.

Sitting up on the floor, he winced and rubbed a section of his left deltoid where a kernel of pain had settled in. Not as nimbly, he rolled himself up off the floor… picked up his covers and left them in a messily folded pile on the bed. Jennifer was sprawled out on her back, her mouth hanging open. Her covers were half on her body and half off. He gently pulled the covers back up to her chest and turned to head into the bathroom. It was time to get ready for work.

He woke up fully in the shower. The water at the start had been freezing cold, which was exactly what he needed. After stepping out of the shower, he dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist. Busily brushing his teeth – he was startled when the door opened.

Jennifer scurried in, dealing with a very full bladder. She was so distracted that she didn’t realize he was there. In fact, she plopped down to sit with her eyes half closed. Thankfully, she’d worn an oversized t-shirt to bed. It protected her modesty.

Shaking off his shock, Peter resumed brushing his teeth. It was best if he didn’t allow this predicament to distract him. There were more pressing issues he needed to deal with. Soon enough, he relaxed…mentally planning out how the day was going to go. When he went to gargle though, he was reminded that someone else was in the room.

“Oh no…” Jennifer’s voice came out in a croak, uncertainty in her voice. “How long have you been here?” Jennifer was staring up at him from where she was seated, her eyes threatening to jump from the sockets.

Peter returned her stare with an owlish expression. His hair was plastered to his forehead, still damp from the shower. He was holding a small cup of mouthwash, having put part of it in his mouth. What was he supposed to say? He was also still swishing the mouthwash awkwardly. Spitting out the mint flavored cleaner into the sink, he opened his mouth a few times…unsure what to say. He wasn’t the one who had barged into the bathroom, but he didn’t want to bring that up. “Umm… A while.” He blinked again, watching as Jennifer mirrored his actions.

She flinched, tugging her shirt further down between her legs. “Are you sure?” She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, having frozen in place. Her forehead and chest were flushing.

_One of us has to move…_ Peter decided. With a sigh, he resumed gargling. The sooner he left, the sooner she could finish. He tossed the small paper cup into the trashcan, pausing because he had to maneuver around Jen’s legs to get out of the bathroom. “Huh… Strange.” He remarked, staring down at her.

“W-What?! What could be stranger than this?!” She felt her ears beginning to burn, as the blush spread.

He’d had to step so carefully – because she wasn’t moving out of the way – that he found himself staring right down at her knees and toes. “I thought you wore underwear to bed.” _That_ made her pull her legs back in reflex, and it made his exit from the bathroom a lot smoother.

“Parker!” she hollered, mortified.

He heard her howl as he returned to his make shift bed in the living room. Laundry for him had been easy before, as he didn’t have many clothing items. Now though… He was going to have to go clothes shopping because his jeans had splotches of paint. It was an additional problem. Not only did he need a bed, but he needed a place to store his clothes. How was she going to feel about that?

“I’m going to fix us breakfast before I leave, Jen!” He called back to her.

When the small brunette finally left the bathroom, he was dressed for the day. Her face was so red that he was concerned for her health. “Are you feeling okay?” He hazarded after she shakily found a seat in the small dining room. He noticed that she still only had the oversized shirt on, but held his tongue.

Lightly shaking her head, she buried her face in her hands. She had opted for silence, which was likely best for both of them.

Gently patting her back, Peter walked into the kitchen. “I’m going to whip up a quick breakfast for us today.” He heard a noncommittal sound and got to work. It was nearly six in the morning by his watch so he needed to hurry. He knew that Jennifer typically had oatmeal when she was on her own, so he fixed it up and took a few minutes to put together a large sandwich for her. It was the first container he slid into the fridge. Grunting softly, he twisted his upper body and felt a crunch that brought instant relief.

With the water now boiling, he put in enough oats for three servings, knowing that his smaller friend would need something that would stick to her. He quickly went to work cutting up fruit as the oatmeal cooked. _Why did she have ‘Old Fashioned’ oats in the cabinet?_ He wanted so badly to inquired about that. Instant would have been a lot better.

Soon, he was serving up oatmeal with brown sugar and sliced up banana mixed in. She’d fallen asleep at the table and was no longer flushed. Had that been embarrassment or something else? Lightly shaking her, he placed the bowl next to her. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Pete?” She asked, her voice cracking.

“Yes?” He took a seat next to her and gently nudged her again. “Go on and eat.”

Almost automatically, she began eating. The only sound she made after that was a soft hum.

They finished their breakfast together in companionable silence.

_2PM – Downtown_

Peter wiped the sweat off his brow, hissing faintly as some sweat dripped into his eyes. His white baseball cap was liberally coated in paint as was his shirt and parts of his face. They were promised that the gig for this particular building would last two weeks. Fourteen days of guaranteed work were a dream for him. He’d been so used to only finding one day stints at a time. If he kept his boss happy, he would be brought along for other jobs too. The money was very good.

And because he was paid under the table… his boss always seemed to add a little more than he was owed. He supposed he saved the man a bundle on taxes. That was one small detail that he didn’t mention to Jen. She’d be livid if she found out that he was working under such conditions.

Officially, Peter wasn’t even on the man’s payroll and as such wasn’t covered under the insurance clause. It _did_ bother the young hero that he wasn’t insured if there were accidents, but he was hopeful that he could soon find someone who would grant him that. He didn’t want Jennifer upset if something happened to him – and not have the support he promised.

“Look alive Hammer!”

The sudden call coincided with Peter’s spider sense activating. He jumped to the side, and full a bucket of paint landed right where he’d been standing scant seconds later. Copious amount of the contents splashed out onto his sneakers and pants. He sighed. Certainly, _now_ he was going to need to buy new jeans. There was no way he wanted to walk around in stained clothing.

“Sorry about that!”

He looked up at one of his coworkers, noticing how horrified the other man looked. He was older judging by both his graying hair and mullet. He was also on the burly side. He was hurrying down the ladder as quickly as he safely could and rushed over.

“You okay, man? I’m so sorry about that!” The older man reached for the handle on the bucket and lifted it up carefully. A good half of the contents must have spilled out.

The only thing affected were Peter’s jeans. Grinning a bit, he shrugged. “Thanks for the head’s up, Harold.”

Harold nodded, his features showing how contrite he was. “Anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Not expecting that, Peter considered the offer for a moment. “Well… actually…”

_4PM_ ­ _– Nearby Eatery_

“Wow! You’re right about these subs!” Peter and his coworker were seated inside a sub shop having a very early supper. Harold had certainly talked the place up after the near accident. Peter had just asked him for a place to grab dinner. A quick phone call and both of them had walked to the site. Peter had ordered a philly cheesesteak sub, believing himself to be an expert on the taste. After all, he lived so close to Philadelphia before that it was nothing for him to go there for a quick bite. He didn’t have that luxury now though.

“Best place in town.” Harold smiled. His sub had double meat on it, as well as three sauces.

“I can’t disagree with that.” The young hero mused. _Jen would really like it here. Wait…_ “That gives me an idea.” Peter spoke up suddenly. Without explanation, he wrapped up the rest of his sandwich. Hopping up from his seat, he returned to the line to place another order. His right hand twitched, wishing that he’d had time to get a cellphone set up. Instead, he had a pager strapped to his hip. Currently, he was able to use local payphones to call Jen at the apartment to let her know where he was. This time though, he was flying blind. What sort of sub sandwich did she want? _Jen doesn’t seem to care as long as its edible these days._ He thought with half a grin.

“Why are we back in line?” Harold asked, still eating his sub. He had followed the younger man back to the line. He was glad now that he hadn’t fully unwrapped his food.

“Going to get something for Je – Err… For someone else.” Peter lightly coughed, almost slipping. He wasn’t sure if Jen wanted anyone to know that they lived together. What did it matter though, at the end of the day? Those same people were still going to talk, especially when the baby grew larger. He’d been smart enough so far – to not point out the obvious to her.

“Oh, for your ah… friend?” Harold asked. “You should let him know about this place. We could meet again after work tomorrow for lunch together.”

“Uh…” Peter felt his ears warm. He wasn’t sure what to say in response to that. Tomorrow was Monday. Jen was supposed to be heading back to work. She’d been fretting about it with increasing regularity as time dragged on. Feeling a buzz at his side, he immediately pulled the pager off his hip and read the message on the screen. _Saved by the bell!_ He thought with glee.

The message on the screen was a simple one. It read: ‘Dinner? Want me to cook?’ Frowning at the screen, Peter felt uncertain of how to react to that. Jennifer hadn’t offered to cook once since he’d moved in. He’d taken the lead in that regard.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her cooking, but he wondered why she was offering now.

Unaware, Harold casually read over Peter’s shoulder. “Is that a pager?” His surprise was audible in his voice. “Didn’t know people still used those.”

Before Peter could respond, another message flit across the screen. ‘Baby wants sardines. Get some.’ Then, he was unable to even speak. He wasn’t sure why she was asking for sardines. Two days prior, he’d popped open a can of tuna and had the misfortune of being too close to her. She’d thrown up on herself before she could even leave the table. _Is she trying to test me with this?_ Sardines smelled even worse than fresh tuna out of the can did.

“Baby?” Harold interjected, cutting right through Peter’s chain of thought. “You’re having a baby? Is that why you got back in line?”

Peter never had a chance to reply as others in the line turned to him and began congratulating him. Some of them offered to let him go ahead of them in line. How could he say no to that? Once he was back at the front, he ordered a footlong meatball sub for Jen, with double meatballs and extra cheese. He was hoping she’d be full enough that she would fall asleep easily.

After Peter paid for the order, he looked over to Harold…feeling a bit apprehensive. “Ah… can I use your phone for a moment?” Thankfully, Harold handed it over without a whisper of complaint.

Peter quickly dialed Jen’s number. He waited patiently, then heard a hesitant voice on the other end of the line. “Hey…” He nodded faintly in response to what he heard on the line. “Yes… I’m not sure why you want sardines. Was that a mistake?” He sincerely hoped it was. His face scrunched up after that. _She’s going to eat them and get so sick…_ Peter certainly didn’t like it when she became violently ill. There was always a worry in the back of his mind – that she’d need to be hospitalized again. That was the last thing he wanted to happen.

Harold waited patiently, vaguely able to hear a feminine voice on the other end of the line.

“N-No. I have no problem stopping for that. I got you a sub though.” Peter stopped talking abruptly hearing something down the line. “Meatballs.” He laughed then at her response through the line. “I can bring it back for you and then hit the store. I don’t want your food to get cold.” Glancing to Harold, Peter noted growing amusement on the older man’s face. “Yes.” Peter replied to something she’d asked. “I’ll get more chips too. Okay. I have to go. I’ll see you in a bit.” Hanging up, Peter handed back the phone. “Thank you so much.”

Harold dipped his head. “No problem. I remember when my wife was pregnant with our first.” He lightly clapped Peter on the shoulder. “Sometimes, it’s best just to agree with what she wants.”

“But…” Peter started to interrupt. He knew that Jennifer’s stomach didn’t like strong smells.

“No. Anything she wants. She gets.” Harold’s features darkened. “Anything.”

Instead of trying to say anything, Peter nodded. He wasn’t certain what had happened to cause _that_ reaction. After a moment, he put the pager back on his hip and checked his watch. “I need to head back so I can catch the bus.”

“Nonsense.” Harold replied. “You need a ride?”

Peter’s brows rose at that.

_Jennifer’s Apartment – 5PM_

Clad in a long t-shirt and sweatpants, Jennifer was standing at the sink and cleaning dishes. She jumped a bit hearing the front door open.

“It’s me!” Peter announced at the front door. Stepping out of the kitchen, Jennifer was drying her hands with a dish towel.

“How’d you get here so fast?” Her eyes rounded a little seeing that Peter wasn’t alone.

Pointing a bit over his shoulder with his thumb, Peter grinned. “Harold gave me a ride.”

The older man waved a bit. “Nice to meet you, miss! I’m heading home, Edgar!”

Nodding at that, Peter closed the door after the older man left. “I have returned, bearing sardines, chocolate chips…and a meat sub!” He laughed at the look on Jennifer’s face, quickly handing the bag to her.

“Where did you guys go?” She asked, already tearing through the wrapping and stuffing her mouth with a big bite. She moaned at the explosion of taste on her tongue.

Peter stepped closer to her and gently pat her belly before walking into the kitchen. “Harold knew about this sub shop near the job. They had the best cheesesteak I’ve had since I was in New York.” When Jen didn’t respond, Peter turned around. He swallowed down a laugh. She’d taken a seat at the table and was trying to politely shovel down her food. “Please remember to chew.” He quipped, going into the fridge to get her a drink.

“Mmpfh.” She replied, trying to work through another mouthful. “I’m sorry. It’s so good though.”

He set a tall glass of milk next to her and took a seat beside her. “It’s fine.” He lightly rubbed her back. “How was your day?”

Pausing as she ate, she sighed, lowering her eyes. She muttered something under her breath.

“Jen?” Peter lowered his head to try to obtain eye-contact. “Bad day?”

“My…” Her next words were purely gibberish. Her mouth wasn’t even full, but her words were unintelligible.

“Jen?”

“…and they don’t fit…” she finished. She seemed very upset about that – upset and embarrassed.

While her first few words were hard to understand, he more than picked up on the last part. He scratched the back of his head, looking at her as she resumed eating. Opting to remain silent for now, he pushed the glass of milk closer to her. Stretching a little, he hoped out of his seat again and retrieved the half of his sub left from earlier. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he returned to his seat and plopped down next to her. “Want to share?” He asked, as means to get her to open up.

Perking up some, Jennifer leaned over. “What do you have?”

Peter smiled at her and unwrapped the rest of his cheesesteak. “Got this earlier when I was out with Harold. Want me to cut off a bite for you to try?” At her enthusiastic nod, he popped up from his seat again. Maybe by accident he’d found another staple for them at dinner time. Locating a knife, he returned to his seat and sliced a healthy chunk out of his sub.

“Cut some of mine too.” At his raised brow, she smiled. “We’re sharing, right?” Peter nodded and cut a piece of equal size off her sub as well.

Picking up the portion he’d cut for himself, he bit in. “Mmm! Those are really good.” He got a bit of sauce on the corner of his mouth while he was eating and quickly licked it off. He was puzzled at Jen’s transfixed stare then. “Jen?” She was silent, her gaze growing unfocussed. He gently nudged her in the shoulder.

Blinking a little, she rubbed her eyes. “Huh?”

He pushed the bite-sized cut over to her.

“Oh!” Scooping it up, she popped it into her mouth. Her eyes widened comically.

Peter struggled to hold back laughter. Jennifer was always so expressive…about everything. When it came to food though, her reactions were hilarious too. “It’s good, right?”

Her head bobbed enthusiastically. “I almost wish I had that one instead…” Then, she looked at the meatball sub. “But this is so good too.” Peter nodded lightly. She waited until he had resumed eating before speaking again. “Pete?” She offered a faint smile when he looked at her. “Do you think we can fix spaghetti tomorrow?”

Peter nodded quietly. He knew that they still had _some_ leftovers from the night before. She plowed through pretty much everything whenever he cooked it for her. “Of course, Jenny.” She smiled at that.

“That’s nice. I wanted to fix something that dad and I… used to make all the time.” Melancholy filtered through her tone. “I really miss him, Pete.” She took another healthy bite out of her sub. “He doeshen eben no bout teh bobi.” She said, through her mouthful. Finishing her bite, she let out a small sigh. “Before I left, I didn’t have time to tell him.” _No…_ She reminded herself. _It wasn’t that I didn’t have time…but I never made the time to tell Dad._ What was she supposed to say exactly when he started asking her very ‘Dad’ related questions about the man in her life? When she’d run from California, she was running away from any probing questions as well.

Peter did a double take. _Well…_ He thought with amusement. _Jen was never one for table manners._ Or rather…not around him. She was messy mostly when she was hungry. She was angry usually by the time they were able to catch a bite anywhere. At least that’s how she was back home. “Well…” Peter hesitated a moment as he found himself the focus of her stare again. “I’m not exactly the best person to talk about… You know… Doing the right thing at the right time.” _Not to mention saying, but physically doing the right thing._ Had he taken action all those years ago, his uncle Ben would have never died. Instead, he’d been foolish and lazy. The guilt would follow him the rest of his life.

“It’s okay.” Jen replied, resting a hand on his arm. “I’m glad I can talk to you at all.” Her brows pinched together. “And I don’t mean you…specifically. Anyone.” Moving her hand, she stared forlornly at her shuttered windows. “It’s so dangerous for me to do anything.” She bit her bottom lip. “I have to be careful.” Her eyes narrowed. “Things weren’t always like this… To think – I used to think I was some hot-shot attorney.” She scoffed at herself. “And here I am, unable to be myself.”

“Jen… You still are. Just because you’re here – it changes nothing.” He watched as she set the sub down, leaning back in her seat.

“Sure, Peter.” She lightly scratched her stomach. “Except I can’t become the same lean, green, fighting machine.” It felt good to air out her thoughts… really good. “I’ve been hiding out since I moved to this hole in the wall.” She peered up at him. “Ever had to go on the run somewhere…for a really long time and felt just—” She gesticulated with her hands as she spoke…searching for the right word to use. “Felt just trapped?”

Peter hesitated a moment before he moved to respond. “Once, yes.” He nodded affirmatively, noting her surprise. “Was gone for almost half a year.” He scratched his chin then. “Didn’t have access to a razor.” He stated with a half grin. “Or a mirror.”

“Where’d you go?” She had certainly wondered about what made him decide on growing a beard. It never occurred to her that he hadn’t had a choice in the matter. She leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows on the table…the sub forgotten for now.

“Dutch country.” She looked so lost, not recognizing the location right away. His grin widened. “It was really nice out there. Let me tell you all about it.” He settled in his seat and described the area he’d lived in. If she was alarmed to find out he’d lived in the woods, she made no mention of it. Everything about being out there had appealed to him, the wide-open space… the fresh air. He even enjoyed the animals he interacted with on the Knott family farm.

She asked, as he knew she would… why had he left? His heart felt heavy as he described that long night, going with Caleb took him to Jonas’ store. He noted how strange it was that he’d found a newspaper from way over in New York discarded outside the shop…the gunshots. How he’d had to flee for his life. All of that comradery Peter had thought he’d developed with the family…the friendship and ties built – all of it destroyed in one night. He explained how he’d had to stay under the radar, the youth hostel he stayed in and how they always had plenty of dinner rolls.

Jennifer had laughed over his recollections of how the various housemates acted. She was intrigued when he spoke of his confrontation with Octavius. Something was off in what Peter was telling her. Her eyes narrowed a little as she continued to listen. It sounded as if something more had happened during their exchange. She never remembered Octavius ever being in a wheelchair… making her question just how closely tied their universes were. Peter _had_ told her that he was from a closely parallel universe. She wondered where the differences lie. The outwardly obvious ones were there for her to see. _This_ Peter Parker had a beard and full head of hair. _Her_ Peter Parker had kept himself shaved bald, including his eyebrows.

“…And then I ended up in that Applebee’s. I’m still stunned that more of my costume didn’t burn off in the fire.” Peter shook his head at that. “How was I supposed to know that thing would burst into flames?” The device he referred to was the burnt helmet that he still carried on him.

“I’m amazed you didn’t die from that fall, Pete.” Jennifer remarked. “It’s not like you’ve got any gamma green juice pumping through your veins.”

Peter waved off the concern lightly. “I’ve survived worse.” He remembered encountering her overgrown cousin on more than one painful occasion. “Considering, a fall from so high doesn’t hurt nearly as much.” Sitting up straight, he nodded to her sub. “Want me to put that away for tomorrow?” _Breakfast probably._ Jennifer was certainly not wasteful with food.

She hesitated, staring at the sub. Her eyes were filled with longing. She wanted nothing more than to finish the second half of the footlong. But… “Uhh… Yeah. It might be for the best.” She covered her eyes, pushing it away from herself. Her expression was pained.

“You don’t want it, Jen?” Peter reached over to wrap the food back up, but hesitated. “What’s wrong?” Worriedly, he rubbed her shoulder. “Are you feeling sick?” Even as he asked, he was trying to figure out how to return the food to the sub shop and get a refund. He also wondered how he was going to get her to a hospital. Rising out of his seat, he was about to grab his jacket when he felt a tug on his shirt. His attention abruptly jumped back to Jennifer. She was looking at him through spread fingers.

“No… It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, Peter.”

Plunking back down into his chair, he turned in the seat and leaned forward. “So what is the matter?” He frowned, watching as Jennifer shook her head. “I can’t do anything to help if you don’t talk to me.” _Is this how it’s always going to be?_ He wondered worriedly. He wasn’t the best when it came to communication to begin with. What was he going to do if he had to struggle and strain to extract information out of her?

“Peter… It’s not exactly something that you can help me with.” She was still leaning back in her seat. “It’s… sweet that you’d offer, but you can’t fix this.”

Peter offered a sunny smile and voiced a challenge. “Try me.”

Staring at him for a long moment, Jennifer got out of her seat. “Okay… Fine.” She walked into her bedroom, but only partially closed the door. Once she was inside, she stepped to the side of the bed and scooped her jeans off the floor… grunting a little from the effort. _Oh… How I miss my old body already._ She thought with a grimace. Scrunching her face up at the image in her bedroom mirror, she pulled off her sweatpants and tossed them on the bed. Holding up her favorite pair of jeans, she twitched a little. She could already feel the burn behind her eyes forming before she began shoving her legs into the tight denim.

At first, everything was fine and smooth sailing. The struggle began right when the material reached her backside. She was able to pull the jeans all the way up, but there was an issue with her zipper. Staring down at her hands – partially obscured by the material of the t-shirt – she grit her teeth and pulled…and promptly gave up at the resistance. She had already tried every trick she knew to get them zipped earlier – short of greasing herself up to slide into them. Looking behind herself a moment, she noticed that her backside had grown fuller.

That was nothing compared to her midsection. The firm protuberance rising from her pubic bone was not going to be shifting in any direction…any time soon. With a deep exhale, she turned towards her door.

Peter was getting antsy where he sat. _At least she didn’t scream at me this time._ He also hadn’t been slapped since the ‘ice cream’ incident, which was good. Her sudden silence had worried him. So far, he’d seen Angry Jen, Hungry Jen, the upgraded version Hangry Jen, Weepy Jen and Sick Jen. He slowly had begun categorizing different titles to her moods in his head so that he’d avoid problems. So far, it had worked. Now, there was Mysterious Jen… which was causing him to shift uneasily now. When Jennifer finally stepped out of her room, he tilted his head.

Hands in her pockets, she stepped half way down the hall. “How do I look?”

Uncertain where she was going with her questions, Peter answered carefully. “Fine Jen. You look nice.”

She did a half turn, showing off more of her backside in the jeans. “Really?” She was flattered at his words, but wasn’t sure how he’d respond to what she wanted to show him next.

This time, Peter nodded. She really did look beautiful. When he’d been teamed up with her in his universe, he never had time to comment much on Jennifer’s figure – which was stunning. She was far more likely to knock him into next week if he said _anything_ at all. “Yes.” He smiled lightly then. Maybe she was just fishing for compliments? He sincerely hoped that was the case. _Maybe jitters about returning to work._ Her uniform at Applebee’s wasn’t extensively regimented.

“Yeah… There’s only one problem.” Pulling her hands out of her pockets, Jennifer adjusted her stance to hold on to the material between her legs. Her left hand grasped the material of the pocket itself. “This…” She pulled up the long t-shirt with her right hand to reveal that her jeans weren’t buttoned or zipped up at all.

Peter’s mouth dropped open. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to be looking at. He did note that she was wearing red low-riding panties, thankfully. “Uhh… Jen…?” His confusion continued to mount as her expression towards him turned hostile. _No…_ He thought with dismay. _Angry Jen again!_ Since he almost assigned entirely different personas to her moods, it enhanced the fear suddenly seeping in. _What did I do?! I didn’t do anything!_

“Look at this!” She yelped, walking right up to him. “I can’t zip them up!” Holding up the material of her shirt with her teeth, she freed both hands to show him that there was a three-inch gap where the fabric was refusing to meet. Instead, he saw the bare skin of her belly.

Peter’s jaw worked a little, and he swallowed hard as Jennifer closed the distance, leaving only a foot between their bodies.

Dropping the material of the shirt from her mouth, Jennifer spoke. “What am I supposed to do?! I don’t have any other jeans!” _Bigger jeans…_ She thought with a hiss. She didn’t have any bigger clothing at all. She never needed them.

Meanwhile, Peter was wracking his brain to come up with a quick response and finally settled on what he hoped was best. He lifted her shirt again and studied the surface under her hands. “How are you and Chip feeling today?” He gently moved her hands out of the way and stretched his larger hand across her lower abdomen. _Oh yeah._ He thought, with realization. _The baby has definitely gotten bigger._

Explosive reaction stymied; Jennifer’s hands rested over his. “We feel fat today,” she retorted. Worrying her bottom lip, she wondered what he was thinking. “We feel very fat… I feel…” Jennifer inhaled deeply and exhaled, her shoulders sagging. “Becca wanted to go out today for coffees.” Noting Peter’s scandalized stare, she snorted. “I wasn’t going to get coffee. Probably a cookie. They have the best chocolate cookies there.”

Wisely, Peter remained silent. It was not the time to bring up her issues with sugar.

“And… I went to get dressed. But…m-my jeans didn’t fit!” She sniffed then, rubbing at her eyes with her right hand. “And I told Becca to go on without me… I told her I wasn’t feeling well.” She hung her head. “I was too embarrassed to tell her that I’d gotten too fat to fit in my jeans.”

“You’re fourteen weeks, Jen.” Peter responded. He rested his hands on her hips, pulling her over. “Chip is growing. Remember what the doctor said?”

Caught off guard at his actions, Jennifer didn’t respond right away. “Fourteen officially tomorrow, Pete.” She reminded him softly. Her eyes rolled a little as she repeated what the doctor had told them. “He said ‘you need rest, fluids and food’.”

Peter rested his head against her stomach, right under her breasts. “Yes. So why are you so upset?” He tried to reason. “It’s not you Jen. The baby’s just growing like it’s supposed to.” He wasn’t going to mention that part of her recent growth could have been related to her eating. He remembered the doctor pointing out that she was malnourished. He knew her body was just going back to normal. Her voracious appetite had just ensured it all happened a lot sooner.

“I hear you, Pete. It’s just… I’ve never had to deal with this before.” Her voice cracked without her meaning to, and he stared up at her. Every time she saw Peter looking up at her like that, or from any angle, she was painfully reminded of what she’d lost. _This man…_ She had to remind herself. _He is not my Peter._ It was hard to convince herself of it. Not when he looked up at her like that. “Don’t worry.” She chirped, still sounding wobbly. “I’m not upset.”

“Well that’s good, right?” Leaning back a bit, he began rubbing her belly in circles. “Upset mama means upset Chip.” _Upset Chip means I don’t get any sleep._ Though he’d noticed a change in Jennifer’s digestive exploits. She seemed to hold down her meals a lot better as of late, barring any noxious smells – like raw fish or meat.

Jennifer snorted. “I can’t believe you call the baby that.” She rolled her eyes. She began to unconsciously run her fingers through his hair.

“It’s nicer than Yogi.” Peter retorted. He still wasn’t sure of Jennifer’s suggestion for nicknames. “Or Pooh.”

Now, Jennifer looked offended. “But you named it after food!” She shook her head at that.

“Only cause you keep stealing the chocolate chips.”

She pouted. “But they taste so good…in everything.”

Peter held back a sigh. He had hoped she was only adding them to yogurt, but slowly the chocolate treats were being introduced to everything. Even her sandwiches. “But how am I supposed to make you chocolate chip cookies?” He felt the fingers in his hair halt a moment.

“Honesty Peter…” Jennifer said after a moment, this time intentionally resuming her actions. “Even if I’m not fat right now, I will be if I keep eating your cooking.”

Peter wisely remained silent. He’d noticed that her jeans were beginning to slip, but kept quiet.

Both of them remained like that, enjoying each other’s company.

“So…” Peter began after several minutes had passed. “Still worried about the sub?” He glanced up at her. “I know you’re still hungry, Jen.” He heard her laughter.

“You’re smooth.” She didn’t seem angry with him. “Has anyone ever told you that, Mr. Parker?” Before he could respond, her eyes widened as she felt a sudden cold breeze. Extracting her fingers from his hair, she grasped behind herself…rewarded with the loud smack of naked flesh.

Startled, Peter moved his hand away from her belly. Noting the frustration on her face, he lifted her shirt again and looked behind her. “…Should I even ask why you’re in a thong?” Both of her hands had slapped against her own backside as she scrambled to grab her wayward jeans.

“No…you may not, webhead.” She responded through gritted teeth. She was already blushing in embarrassment.

“Though I shouldn’t be that surprised.” He continued, as if he hadn’t heard her. “In your old costumes, I always wondered what could fit under there.”

“What makes you think there was ever anything else there, Spider?” Her voice had dropped an octave. Intense frustration was mingling with humiliation, and it was proving a potent combination. “Eight ball, corner pocket…” Her voice had deepened further.

Pulling back when she growled at him, Peter looked up. It looked like she was about to – “No Jen!”

_Location, Undisclosed_

Work work work… It was all he ever found himself doing these days. Pale hands rubbed against the bare skin of his head. ECHO was currently seated at his console. As soon as he finished one commission, he was already delving through half of a newer one. His field had never been one that could be considered ‘fast pace’ in the least. However, it was lucrative depending on who the assignment came from. It was a brand-new branch of orthotics he was moving into.

Slowly, over the last year, ECHO had taken on more and more jobs that delved into the medical realm. He was a little frustrated today though. Or was it night? Pausing where he held a digital sketchpad… he lifted his head and searched for the clock. _The oddest thing…_ He thought, flustered. _Is that clock has been in the same spot…and I never remember where it is._ When he needed the thing, he needed a few minutes to locate it. Finding it fastened to the wall, he squinted and read the time. _Ah… Three in the afternoon._ Noting the time, he shrugged and returned to the sketchpad.

“What I need…” He grumbled. “Is a bigger screen to work with.” Sitting next to him on the console was a medical textbook, flipped open to a diagram of the human eye. “Maybe that’ll be my next project.” Grip tightening on his stylus, he leaned back and squinted at the image on the tablet. A faint beacon over his second console began to blink steadily, but he didn’t notice it right away. He zoomed into the image, drawing in additional details that he would need when he moved to the construction phase.

_Amazing organ, this is…_ He had assumed that he understood how eyes worked. After all, he’d built them before…but those were for androids. Robots saw differently than human beings. His new construction had to be able to connect to the occipital lobe at the back of the brain. It was supposed to help compensate for the diseased nerves that connected the brain to the patient’s real eyes. _Where do I go after this? Ears maybe?_ The idea was intriguing. However, he questioned just how effective medical science would go as far as the natural limits everyone had.

After all, he was unable to cure himself of the medical ailments that he suffered through daily. He sunk deeper into work, blearily noticing the beacon late. Stiffening, he dropped his stylus and leapt to the second console. Hitting a series of commands into the screen, he waited until it connected. He heard the dial tone ringing…but no response. Growing frustrated, he grabbed the speaker, squeezing the button on the side. “Ashley!” His voice bellowed down the line. “Pick up!”

Seeing that beacon was a bad sign… an indication that she was in trouble.

She’d never intentionally activated the beacon before. ECHO froze where he sat.

“HAE!”

_Ashley’s Apartment_

Feeling ‘off’ wasn’t normal for the bot, but the gynoid knew that something was wrong. That morning, she’d called out work, citing illness. She hadn’t wanted to, but until she knew what was wrong, she needed to stay in her apartment. The last thing that she needed was to suffer a hardware failure on the job.

The first problem that cropped up seemed to be a minor error in her overnight charger. The solution was simple, unplugging the charging port from the wall and testing her backup port. Concentrating on the task was difficult, as her energy reserves were lower than they should have been.

Instead of charging, she’d been draining her own battery. At 8am, she was already struggling to focus long enough to even get the port into the wall. She hissed as a brief spark came from the wall and hit her fingers. Pain was something she’d been programmed to understand as a safety precaution, but right now that addition was proving an annoyance.

By 10AM, the gynoid was even more frustrated. The secondary backup port wasn’t working either. Or was it her? Her gaze was unfocussed as she staggered out of her closet, nearly tripping over both of her feet. She felt unease, was uncoordinated in her movements. A faint whirring noise began to sound in her head, and she wasn’t sure what she could do.

She had no way to call ECHO. As a rule, they had to keep radio silence. Since she normally hurried right to him when there was a problem, she should have had no problem. Unfortunately, she was running for nearly two days without a charge. “Bat. Batteries. Stupid batteries,” she choked. Her body had undergone major enhancements, but she didn’t have a big enough power source to keep all of it running for longer than a day. She needed some way to charge her batteries up, otherwise she’d never make it back to him.

At noon, the blonde had fashioned a makeshift charging port for herself. She just needed to be able to plug herself into it. Remembering that she could absorb _some_ energy from coffee, she put together a cup of instant, using four times the normal amount of crystals in the cup. Drinking it when it cooled was daunting, but she didn’t want to risk damaging anything else.

After plugging her ‘fresh’ port into the wall next to her unused microwave, she sat up on the counter and waited to feel better. _I need to get on my bike and get to ECHO._ Under normal circumstances, she could have done so. He was a half hour away, and she could barely stand, which posed a problem. Losing control of her bike would have catastrophic consequences.

By 2:45PM, she was sprawled out on the floor, struggling to get to the door. The whirring noise in her head had increased in volume. Grunting, she managed to send off a distress signal before losing consciousness.

The coffee had not worked, nor had the cuff.

_50 Minutes Later_

There was a banging noise on her door, but she was unaware. The super of the apartment complex was on the other side of the door. He was staring uneasily at a tall, lean man behind him. “Ashley! This is Wayne. Open up!”

He waited a few minutes, growing concerned at the silence in her apartment. The young woman wasn’t intentionally noisy, but her neighbors below had complained that she tended to stomp around in the apartment. He’d heard it himself when he came to talk to her. For such a slight woman, she was heavy footed.

“Ashley! Open up! It’s Mister Berry!” ECHO called, panic in his voice.

The shorter man stared up at the wild-eyed man. “How did you say you knew her again?” he asked. He felt protective of the slight woman. Yeah, Mr. Berry had introduced himself as her boss, but Wayne knew that she worked for a different employer at one of the local papers.

“She works for me,” ECHO replied. “And I’m her friend.”

His hand was tightly squeezing the tracker for her beacon. The device buzzed again, and his eyes became slightly crazed. “She told me she needed help.”

Wayne sized him up again and pulled out his phone. Quickly dialing a number, he held it to his ear. “I’m letting you know, Mister Berry,” he began. “That I’m on the phone with emergency services. They can hear everything that is occurring as we speak.”

ECHO blinked at him, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. “Yes,” he replied. “I understand. Just please help me. I will be in your debt.”

Deciding that there was risk in inactivity, Wayne pulled out a long ring of keys and quickly located hers. Unlocking the door, he pushed it open – shocked at what he’d found.

ECHO rushed around him to Ashley. The blonde lay unmoving on the floor, and when ECHO tilted her head up to look at her face, he noticed her eyes were open and fixed forwards. “Ash?” he queried, quietly. _No... What happened to her?_

A low whirring sound reached his ears, and he noticed one of her fingers trembling. Her mouth opened, but she was unable to speak.

“I’m so sorry!” Wayne stumbled over himself to apologize to the pale skinned man. Redirecting his attention to the phone in his hand, he spoke again. “Yes. We need an ambulance, fourth floor. No, I’m not sure what happened. We just got in the apartment,” he replied, a bit testy. Why was it that emergency personnel always seemed to expect the caller to know what had occurred? When they put him on hold, he began to tremble.

Grunting under the strain, ECHO clumsily lifted Ashley from the floor. With her head hanging while she was bent at an angle, her coffee came back up.

Both men jumped when black liquid bubbled up from her mouth and splashed onto the floor.

ECHO felt almost dizzy at the stench of caffeine permeating the area. “Can you, walk?” he asked, wheezing just a little. Small, she might appear…but light in weight she was not. The whir was heard again, and the blonde tried to straighten out her legs.

Wayne noticed the movement, alarm filling his eyes as his tenant got her footing and then promptly lost it.

Feeling himself being dragged down with her, he pressed a hand to the earpiece he wore. “HEA! Come up here! We need you!”

Wayne was perplexed. “What are you doing?! The ambulance is on its way.”

Scant moments later, a smaller man in a hooded jacket appeared next to Wayne and moved into the room. He kept his head low, not wanting to show his face.

Ignoring Wayne, ECHO addressed his smaller friend. “I can’t pick her up, Hea. We need a lift.”

Instead of responding, the smaller man stretched out his gloved hands and easily lifted Ashley into his arms, then turned and hurried down the stairs.

“But…” Wayne began. She was in the middle of a medical emergency and these guys were just moving her somewhere else? “I insist that you two leave her up here! I just told you that the ambulance is on its way!”

Straightening his jacket, ECHO placed a hand on his chest to calm his racing heart. “Thank you so much, sir,” he said, strain evident in his features. “I’m acquainted with Ashley’s condition and can administer aid at a faster speed.” As he spoke, ECHO was angling himself for the stairs.

Without warning, the tall and gangling man spun and hurried down the steps.

Wayne was hot on his trail. He was at the door when he saw the tall man enter the back of a black vehicle and speed off. Panting and covered in sweat, Wayne tried to see a tag number – anything. He was too late.

He heard the whine of the fire engines and grimaced. Taking the elevator back to the fourth floor, he returned to Ashley’s apartment. Looking a little past the foyer, he noticed some of the pictures she had framed on the walls. She was a lovely woman. There were various wires all over the floor too, some of them with their protective coating peeled back. “What in the world?”

Just then, he heard the rapid clatter of heavily booted feet rushing up the stairwell. _This_ was going to be a nightmare to explain. He’d called for medical assistance and yet the person it was for was gone.

_ECHO’s Personal Car_

“Come on, Ashley! Wake up!” Echo grumbled. He’d tried everything to revive her. He ran a heavy-duty cable from her right wrist to the charging port in the car. His preliminary diagnostic warned him that her currently battery charge sat near 2 percent. He squinted, noticing that the charging ports in her wrists were for emergency use only, but it seemed that they weren’t working at all.

What was wrong with her?

Hearing the whirring sound, ECHO watched as Ashley’s eyes moved a little. Her gaze slowly moved to him, her mouth moving a little more. “Don’t worry, Ashley!” he spoke, trying to sound optimistic. “A little diagnostic, and we’ll have you back in time for bed.” He knew how far-fetched the claim was, but he wanted to say or do anything to make himself feel better.

Realizing that tears were tracking down his cheek, ECHO rubbed at them. “Don’t worry. You’ll be just fine,” he promised. Ashley’s eyes moved away from his and grew still again.

_Location Undisclosed_

Both Hea and ECHO hurried down the hall back to his lab. He’d gotten Ashley’s power levels back to 5 percent before they plunged again. He wasn’t certain why her batteries kept draining themselves. The panic he’d felt was slowly dissipating as he got settled in the lab.

Hea set her down on one of the lab’s many diagnostic tables.

Hovering over her now that he had full access to the lab’s tools, he peered down into Ashley’s eyes. She blinked slowly and stared at him. “Don’t worry,” he tried to sound confident. “You’ll be up and running in no time.” The normal responses he expected never came. Swallowing, he watched as her eyes began drifting into different directions. _That is not good._ Frowning, he worked to carefully peel off the clothing that she had dressed herself in. “I’m sure that as soon as you can, you’ll scold me over being so panicked over something that’s quite simple…”

Handing the garments that covered her upper half to Hea, Echo moved to open the access ports on her left side that led to her central batteries. His nose crinkled a little at the smell that assaulted his senses before she was fully opened. “Hea, I need an external power supply cable…” His voice trailed off as he saw just how badly off her main battery was. It was bloated, swollen and beginning to show bubbles on the sides. “Ashley…” Echo grimaced as one of her eyes turned to him. “It’s a bit more complicated than I thought.” The external battery port was right next to the bloated battery, and the tall man wanted to kick himself for the obvious design flaw. “I’m going to need to strap you down for this.” He wasn’t sure how her body would be able to handle the sudden surge of energy. Would the failing battery blow?

“Hea…” he struggled, feeling like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. “I need a helmet, gloves and protective eyewear.” The small bot moved to quickly retrieve the items.

How long had she suffered like this? How long had her battery been so bad? He felt a bit sick now, thinking about it.

Inhaling deeply to center himself, Echo looked to Hea as the bot returned with the requested items. Pulling the gloves up his arms, Echo chewed on his bottom lip. He did his best to convince himself that he was just taking extra precautions, but she’d be absolutely fine. He was nearly convinced by the time he fasted the helmet on and slid the protective eyewear in place.

“Hea,” he began. “Help me restrain the legs. I’m going to need you to hold the upper arms down.” The small android moved quickly to obey its master’s instructions. Both of them worked together to secure her legs against the diagnostic table with a thick chain. Standing at her head, Hea held her upper arms down. Echo carefully worked to wiggle the bad battery loose, but didn’t disconnect it fully. With enough space for the external supply, he plugged Ashley up. She reacted just as he’d expected, her body suddenly surging with electricity. He heard the chain strain under the pressure from her revitalized muscles. “Stay still, Ashley.”

Despite his words, she was struggling to move. Hea applied more pressure to her upper arms. “Please stay still.” The small bot requested, finally making eye contact with her. Blinking then, the blonde responded and stopped fighting. “You gave out a distress signal today.”

Glancing up, Echo allowed a shadow of a smile to cross his lips. “And gave us quite the scare.” Echo hummed as he smoothly removed the bad battery, holding it up carefully. The smells emitting from it were foul. He’d need to carefully dispose of it. “You’re stuck here until I can get you ready for a new battery.” He was startled to hear the chain around her legs strain again.

“…ave a ob tee doo.” Ashley responded, her vocal processor sounding frazzled. Her eyes widened at the strange sound. “…e-eel f…ne.”

Echo shook his head. “The only reason you’re awake is because of a power supply cable in your chest.” His brows furrowed. “I supposed all that coffee went in the wrong direction too. I’ll have to look in your throat.”

“o-oo-fee?” The idea of opening up any part of their body would terrify most people. The gynoid wasn’t just anyone though and wanted to get back to normal.

Echo sighed. “I also gave your landlord a fright. I’m going to have to retrieve your personal belongings from your apartment.”

“irst…” Ashley managed, grimacing at her own voice. “all…sss…” She sucked her teeth in irritation. “C…all,” she began, slowly. “irst…fo-or oo… g-go.”

Frowning, Echo scratched his bald head. “A notepad until I can set up a neural interface.”

Ashley predictably rolled her eyes. “ip…tal…” She huffed.

_5:30 AM – Jennifer’s Apartment_

“There’s no need to fuss over everything.” Jennifer whined as she watched Peter jumping around the kitchen. She struggled to stifle a yawn, rubbing her eyes with her palms. It was simply a _crime against humanity_ to get up so early in the morning.

“I’m not!” Peter immediately replied, feeling defensive. “But you need snacks to hold you until lunch.”

Dark brows shot up at that. “That’s not lunch?” Jennifer queried. Her hands moved to rest on her hips as she surveyed the lunch bag Peter was stuffing. Stepping closer, she peeked inside. “Pete, I’m not going to be able to eat all of that.”

Peter nodded faintly. “I know. I just want you to have some options. I’ll be by for lunch. What time to you do normally go?”

“Around eleven when I have an early shift like this.” The exchange would have been normal for many couples; however, nothing was normal about either of them.

The young hero nodded, memorizing the information. “We have breakfast sandwiches today.” He revealed, pulling the two containers out of the fridge. He couldn’t suppress a grin at Jennifer’s incredulous stare. “What?”

“When…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Jennifer hadn’t seen those the night before. “When did you have time to make them?”

Peter turned to microwave the containers and lightly shrugged his shoulders. “I got up a bit earlier. Was a little hard to sleep last night.” He found himself suddenly serving as a giant body pillow. She also moved around more than he had expected her to. Last night, he hadn’t wanted to retreat to the floor and was determined to endure.

“I’m sorry.” She was getting up two or three times at night for bathroom runs. Now that they were sharing a bed, she knew it was likely jarring for both of them. “I didn’t know it was waking you up like that.” Deep inside, she feared that had been the case. He hadn’t been in her apartment two weeks, and she was somehow making his stay even more distressing.

Peter cleared his throat. “It’s fine, Jen.” Nothing good would come of it if he brought up their new arrangement. It had been difficult for her to ask him to even share the bed with her. Though, the move had been more for her own sense of comfort, his back had appreciated the break. So… what was as loss of a few hours of sleep between friends? The microwave beeped, and Peter popped the door open. “Breakfast is served.” He handed Jen her container and both of them moved to the table to eat.

“I’ll try to drink less at night,” she piped up in a soft voice. “That way I don’t get up as much.” Even as she spoke, she was beginning to lick her lips.

Peter gave her a hard stare and shook his head. “No. You drink as much as you need. Both of you need the fluids.” Getting up from his seat, he grabbed two bottles of water for them and sat down across from her. “Okay?” He offered the bottle to her, exhaling silently as she accepted the drink.

Peter hoped that these new insecurities weren’t going to be commonplace with her now. When she first asked to share a bed, he had felt…exposed. He wasn’t sure why, but something about this universe’s Jen made him feel differently than the normally assured attorney he had worked with for so long. _Jen never would have wanted me near her._

“F…Fine.” Jennifer took the bottle and looked away. She ate her sandwich slowly. She didn’t like this. She didn’t want him uncomfortable either, but she was always thirsty. Jen knew the baby was only going to put more pressure on her bladder.

As Peter silently watched, his friend’s face was gradually growing red. Not wanting to make her more upset, he didn’t bring attention to what he was seeing. Picking up his container, he stood. “I need to check the mirror and make sure that everything is neat for work. I’ll be a few minutes.”

Nothing was wrong with his dress, but he was giving Jennifer room to breathe. Though not voicing it, she was grateful for the reprieve. Shoulders shaking a little, Jen inhaled deeply and began eating at a more normal pace. It wouldn’t help her if she went into work hungry. It was already going to be early when they arrived at her job.

_Outside Jennifer’s Apartment_

Less than a half hour later the couple were leaving the apartment. Peter stepped out last and turned, locking the door before they left the building. His hand rested in the middle of her back as they walked. As they walked up the block to catch the bus, Jennifer was clutching her lunch bag and mumbling under her breath.

Peter ducked his head down and said something that made her laugh out loud.

Neither of them noticed the shadowy figure that stepped from the bushes next to the stairs to their apartment. Clad in a heavy, brown trench coat and wide brimmed hat…no distinguishable features could be easily seen – save the eyes.

Brown eyes focused on the couple as they put further distance between themselves and their observer.

\--

**Author’s Note:** Thanks for reading! I hope you’re ready and amped for the next chapter! Cause I am… I’m totally prepared and know what will happen. I am a terrible liar… Sorry! Time to get back to the drawing board.

**On A Personal Note:** So…funny story. I was supposed to be back October 16th, last month. That didn’t happen, but a lot of things have happened since my hiatus. I’m getting better sleep, or trying to. Trying to return to an exercise schedule.

I’m disappointed and frustrated. Had I maintained my posting schedule after returning (on time), I’d be up to chapter 9 instead of just chapter 6. One problem early on was getting the motivation to resume writing after the first week on hiatus. The very next _day_ after I went on hiatus, I felt almost palpable relief.

Then, additional health issues reared their ugly heads.

Then I just… _forgot_ the plot of my writing. Two weeks ago, I was struggling to get back into the stride of writing for this fiction. Normally, I’d leave myself notes for completing a chapter, but I hadn’t this time… Assured that I would easily remember.

Nope. That’s not how it works. Sorry if the next chapter seems a bit disjointed. I’m having to reread this fiction to remember where I was. Normally, that would be fine, except the previous five chapters combined are over 120 pages.

I’m going to attempt to squeeze out the next chapter of “Open Arms” for Saturday. We’ll see how it goes. Thankfully those chapters are smaller than this one.

**I love you all! Thank you so much for your patience! XXO**

~J. Lyst


	7. Jinkies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blonde nearly mangled her wrist to get the fresh port to work, had torn wires out of the walls to try to plug herself in. For power – to stay conscious. She had hours where she could have contacted him, but had chosen to deal with the issue herself. 
> 
> On her own, with far less knowledge of her systems than he had.
> 
> It had failed catastrophically...

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own X—Er, Spiderman. Yep! That’s what I was going to say. I was not at all going to reference the fact that I also write X-men fanfiction. Nooo.

 **Trigger:** Get the tissues ready!

 **Warning:** There is a mention made of the abuse of an intoxicating substance in this chapter. If that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip the middle of this chapter.

Navigating The Curve

By Juliette Lyst

Jinkies

_ECHO’s Lab_

How long had it been now since he’d started working? He wasn’t sure. Were he to be a betting man, ECHO could have still easily lost all his money. Most of the time, he lost track of time while engrossed in projects. However, his attention always wavered to that lone clock near his main console. He would remember, note the time and keep going. Losing sleep was normal for him. He had machines that would remind him when he had to sleep, when he needed his medication and when he should sit down and eat. Tonight, everything had changed. It was very different. He’d brusquely told HEA to dump his calendar until the next week, not the least bit concerned about his _paying_ clientele.

Any questions that the small bot might have voiced were completely ignored.

It was so unlike the man. If anything, ECHO took pride in his work and hammering out projects ahead of time. Making money from his creations gave him joy, as it was in a way validating what Octavius had ignored all those years ago. ECHO wasn’t that strange, just misunderstood. His social awkwardness was not of his own design. He just tended to prefer the company of machinery to people and nothing was wrong with that.

The tall man tended to see his aversion to human contact as a catalyst for his mechanical genius. Had he not been so comforted by solitude, he never would have had time to dream up all of the things he built in his lab. He worked best without the company of others, only using HEA if there was an emergency.

Overnight, his world had shifted. Now, he was busily working in his lab, but for once he wasn’t alone. Ashley lay on a slab next to him, hooked into the main power supply. Her green orbs were focused on the ceiling overhead. It was a sad sight, truly. Echo felt an indescribable pain in his chest as he watched her lie motionless on the slab. He knew that she wasn’t asleep. Due to her current energy supply, Ashley didn’t need to power down at night to charge. However, she remained so still and silent. Pausing a moment on part of the design he was working on; Echo rolled his chair over to her and lifted her hand.

Seeing those green eyes move to him, he swallowed hard. He lifted her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on them. While she didn’t pull away, he felt her squeeze his hand slightly. Was it in reassurance? There was no way to tell with her. He wasn’t sure what to say. Ever since he’d had to bring out a pad for her to write on, Ashley had become almost completely uncommunicative. Even though she was a machine, it was proving difficult for her to adapt to the sudden change. He knew that the previous few days, she’d been busy at work. Her ability to move and travel had been unhindered. To go from that to being strapped down to a table was difficult for most people.

_She’s not exactly a person…_ His brow creased at the thought. He’d built her to be able to display emotions, had tried to enable her to actually _experience_ them as people did. There was only so much he was able to do. _What does she feel?_ Echo was at a total loss. With Ashley refusing to ‘speak’ with him, he wasn’t sure how far he could proceed.

Then, there was the issue of her possessions. The motorcycle was still at her apartment, along with her purse and other items. He had a task ahead because he planned to move her things here. He was uncertain as to how long it would take to create a replacement battery that could fully power her enhanced body. It wouldn’t make sense for her to keep the apartment and be unable to live in it. It was also safer if he moved her here. While he hadn’t yet told Ashley what his plan was, he was hopeful that she would be amenable to it.

Still…

After all of this, what had happened to her was his fault. Was it all of the enhancements? He couldn’t be sure.

He’d built her from the ground up, was responsible for what happened to her and what she did.

How could he had been so blind? He was so focused on how she looked on the exterior that he’d failed to miss a potentially dangerous flaw that had threatened to destroy her for who knew how long – from inside.

“I’m so sorry Ashley,” he said. His voice hitched then, eyes beginning to moisten. Clearing his throat after noticing her eyes widen, he looked away. “It’s… It’s my fault this happened to you.” Faced away from her, he was unable to see any reaction, if there were one. His head dipped low between shaking shoulders.

As her maker, he felt the burden of grief for what could have happened. How could he have not noticed there were problems with her power levels? Had he ever taken time to truly test them? How long had she felt the stress of running on a failing battery? Had she simply just… _adapted_ to the pressures on her systems by trying to reduce the energy needed to function? Was it even possible?

Unbeknownst to him, her lips moved. Since her vocal processor had been so badly damaged, he’d decided it best just to remove it and build a new one. Blonde brows pulled down tightly as she remembered that she wasn’t able to speak at all. Her grip on his hand tightened a little and she tugged at him.

At the time, Echo ignored her actions. “I know. I should have paid better attention to you, Ash, but you know how I am when I work.” He sniffed. “You even paid attention to me and brought me food when I never asked you. You’re not even human and yet…” He moved one of his hands away, wiping at his eyes with the palm of his hand. “You’re more than just a bot, Ashley…” Lifting his head, gray eyes bloodshot, ECHO allowed his shoulders to sag. “You’re my friend. It doesn’t make any sense does it?” Trying to laugh, he carefully placed her hand back on the slab. “I’ll fix you, Ashley. That’s a promise.”

He needed say no more. Whenever ECHO had promised anything in the past, he always fulfilled it.

The blonde watched as he rolled back to his desk, a determined set to his shoulders. What could she do, really? Over the years, she’d felt uncomfortable around him – uncertain as to why that was. Ashley was programmed to obey him without question from the start…but gradually she had upgrades to her AI. ECHO had said back then that he wanted her to be able to think and reason for herself. There had certainly been a very broad and awkward learning curve. It was so strange, to have a _sense_ of just who she was. What he’d done is try to mimic life – which was something that no human could hope to achieve. ECHO had been determined to get close.

But at what cost? When was it finally time to stop and call it quits?

Memories returned, unbidden, of ECHO in various states of emotion. He was thrilled when he’d first interacted with her and received a response that wasn’t programmed. When she took her first smooth steps, he was even more excited. Her body from the ribs to hips was a chassis enhanced with titanium, and he wasn’t certain how she could cope with the weight. Everything had been fine, but for such a small woman she also had a heavy stride. For all the happiness, there were also darker periods that she could remember.

ECHO had been so upset with her during one of her missions, that he’d flown completely off the handle. He’d demanded her to acknowledge his place in her existence, that he and he alone owned her. He’d spun away from her that morning, muttering that he should just ‘take her offline’ under his breath, no doubt unaware that she could hear him. Things had been so strained between them since then. Even now that years had passed and he was calmer, the worry remained that he would finally carry out the threat to take her offline. The fear from his off-handed remarks remained.

Fear had kept her with him, uncertainty of a life that Ashley had grown accustomed to. It was cruel to give anyone the ability to _live_ … only to snatch it away. On a whim. Empty threats. She wanted to think his words held no weight, but even now she wasn’t sure.

With her as vulnerable as she was now, it would have been a simple matter for him to completely cut her away from her power supply.

Yet – He hadn’t done it. Instead, he was here trying to console her… upset and apologizing for something that neither of them could have predicted. It wasn’t really his fault that her battery had failed. Sure, the enhancements made to her over the years had hastened its decline, but how could she pin the blame solely on him?

Better yet, how could he?

Now, Ashley wasn’t sure what she should feel. She’d come to value being online, was disturbed at the gap in her memory banks and even more concerned now –seeing how Echo was behaving. She was stuck in his lab on a table, with a thick cable sticking out of her chest.

Trapped.

Stuck here with a man she was still very uncertain of. She was no fool, had seen how violently his mood could swing and didn’t want to be around when his attitude soured again. But where could she go? Without the power cable pumping electricity into her, she was nothing but a useless hunk of metal. Her body would fail before her mechanical brain did…the knowledge of it even more chilling than just shutting down due to cascade failure.

She would cease to be, an eventuality that she should have been facing many decades down the line.

Her blonde brows scrunched minutely with a sudden surge of annoyance. If only he hadn’t wanted to _enhance_ her so often! Ashley would probably have been better off had she not become so self-aware. It was worse to know your life was in danger than not.

Her bottom lip, trembled, but no words escaped.

She had none to give, and he’d taken her voice away.

_The Daily Bugle – Early? In the AM_

J Jonas was a busy man. There was always a new story to chase. Now that the annoying Spiderman had left though, he had to admit that things had been just a _little_ less exciting. Sure, he’d been rude, cruel even when he spoke of the costumed hero – but he missed whenever he had a shot of the webslinger on the front page of his paper. The sales always went up whenever Spiderman was involved.

That wasn’t the only problem now though. In such a short time, he’d had not only lost his biggest moneymaker, but also several staffers. Peter Parker had been a pain in his side for nearly as long as the young man worked for him, but that was washed away with the photographs he always seemed to snap at just the right moment. He truly believed he would see Parker again around the time that Spiderman showed up again. The two were always near each other.

Jonas had begun to wonder if Parker and the webslinger were connected somehow. Parker returning hadn’t happened, unfortunately. Instead, there was nothing but silence on that end. Parker’s cell service had been cut off months ago, but JJ had the number to the photographer’s girlfriend.

Mary Jane Watson had been very quiet as well. Ever since photographs of the ruins of Pier Sixty had been plastered on the front page of ‘The Bugle’ the redhead had dropped off the radar. Jonas was concerned, but not to the extent that he was going to try to call her again.

No one else in what remained of Parker’s family came forward.

Maybe all of them were learning to accept that they’d never see Parker again. _That’s good though… as long as he stays out of trouble._ Jameson thought with a grimace, drinking coffee that was far too thick out of the office pot. _He just needs to stay off all of the bad lists._ Jameson could admit to himself that the last place he wanted to see Peter Parker’s name was in the Obituary section of the newspaper. Or on ‘Recent Arrests.

In spite of himself, Jameson had reached out to other newspapers from New York to Maryland with a copy of the “Missing Person’s” article they’d placed months prior about Parker. It had been a gamble, but he’d managed to call in favors with the majority of them.

Then… They’d lost Mitch Ryan, their newest photographer. He was another one, talented behind a camera lens but reserved around Jameson. JJ was still hopeful that they would eventually get to the bottom of what happened to the young man. The security company was still analyzing security tapes from the parking lot to pinpoint where Mitch had been injured. It was a far-flung shot that anyone had even seen what happened to him. JJ sorely hoped that the video captured some sort of audio, but was doubtful.

The family was grieving, trying to put together funeral arrangements for him. Jameson had offered to help them out financially, partly because he felt at fault. Had Mitch not worked so late, he was certain that Mitch would still be alive.

_Had anyone else seen it?_ The last few days had been painful, but Jameson knew that business had to get back to business. It didn’t help that his staff had picked up on his mood, allowing themselves to openly express their pain over the loss.

The young man hadn’t been there long, but for his life to be cut short so suddenly…

And what about Ashley? The last time he’d heard from her had been two days ago. Yesterday, she’d been a no-show for work. From what Jameson had learned about her the past six months, that behavior was completely out of the norm. Ashley never got sick, or asked for time off. If anything, she easily accepted an additional workload, even if she worked late.

_Maybe she and Mitch had gotten close?_ Jameson rubbed his chin, grimacing at the taste of the coffee as he struggled to down another swallow. “This swill is disgusting…” He grumbled, staring down into the cup. He was missing Miss Gardiner already. She would have made the coffee for the office without even asking if anyone needed it. Someone always needed coffee in the morning or evening. It wasn’t like her at all to completely disappear either. Her disappearance was just as unusual as Mitch’s death.

She’d become part of the team, and it was difficult when they placed orders for the early morning meetings. After so long putting in orders for her, to suddenly have to stop? Blinking and rubbing his eyes, sore from pulling long hours and stress, Jameson set his coffee mug down. Squaring his shoulders, he looked at himself in his office mirror. His salt and pepper hair looked shaggy and disheveled. Heavy bags were visible under his eyes. His tie was undone, and there was no mistaking how wrinkled his shirt looked. Sitting on the front of his desk, he faced the mirror and tried to make himself look more presentable.

Really, the older man needed to just go home and sleep, but he had a newspaper to run. If anything, he’d head home for a shower and change of clothes. He’d abruptly had to compensate for the lack of help with his paperwork. He’d gotten so used to having the blonde in his office with him that the silence without her there was…

Distressing.

He couldn’t stand being in there with just himself for company.

Running fingers through his hair a few times, Jameson grunted in disgust at his own appearance. He still looked terrible. Getting off his desk, he opened the office door and stepped outside. He automatically straightened up, emphasizing the powerful shoulders he still possessed in his advanced age. He ran into one of his employees, coming in to work early. “I’ll be back shortly.” He said, without elaborating further and headed to the parking lot.

Yes. A shower sounded very nice right about now. He’d slept a few hours in his office while working, but hadn’t brought a change of clothes. Not that it mattered. He’d dealt with far worse since he’d begun working.

Once behind the wheel of his car, Jameson allowed his shoulders to sag and yawned. It wasn’t safe for anyone for him to return to the office for a few hours. He could spare the time, couldn’t he? He was the boss, after all. What benefit was there if not for being able to set his own hours?

Bleary, bloodshot eyes read the time on the dash. 6:30AM. He had a meeting at 8am on the dot, but he wasn’t sure how well he could keep up appearances. Was it possible for him to reschedule? _It doesn’t matter._ He grumbled to himself, turning they key in the ignition. _Who would anyone complain to?_ After all, he _owned_ the Bugle. His staff would probably be relieved that they didn’t have to sit through one of his spiels again.

_Parker Residence – 9am_

“Time heals all wounds.” Mary Jane muttered, sitting alone in the kitchen. She was trying to remind herself of that. Just because Peter wasn’t there didn’t mean that she couldn’t eventually find peace again… right? Honestly, she wasn’t sure anymore. She was so pained, remembering why she sat alone in this kitchen. The blinds were closed and curtains drawn, small slivers of sunlight filtering through.

Mary Jane’s intention on taking over the Parker Residence had not been malicious. At least, she hadn’t thought so. She’d done it to keep it safe for Peter, because he would come back. He always had, but what now? Her conscious had begun gnawing at her, letting her know that maybe her actions hadn’t been as noble as she’d told herself they were. _It wouldn’t matter at the end of the day._ A cruel voice in her head pointed out. _He wouldn’t come back to you even if he had the option._

Fear and doubt had followed. Did she really believe that he would come back to her all to get his home back? Tears began to pool in her eyes. How would he have seen her actions? Peter, she knew, didn’t try to hurt others. He didn’t try to harm others to win arguments, instead putting himself on the line.

What was she supposed to do with the house though? Since… since Peter wouldn’t be coming back? Should she sell it and move on? Everything here reminded her of him. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to change anything in the bedroom, sleeping on the couch. All of his belongings were still here.

Except…

The 750 ml bottle of Jim Beam bourbon sitting on the kitchen table was new. The cap was off, half of its contents gone.

Sighing, MJ stirred the lemonade in her glass, deep in though. Unconsciously, she reached out for the bottle. Since she’d gone back to working, she had barely touched the heady spirit at all. She was off today though. The constant silence in the house had begun to bother her last night. Pouring more than a generous amount into the lemonade, she set the bottle down and rose from her seat.

Taking the glass with her, she continued to stir the contents, walking to the curtains and pushing them aside just a little. Her eyes narrowed to slits from the abrupt brightness and subsequent pain, but she struggled to look outside. The sun shone high in the sky.

Outside was _so_ beautiful. In the past, she would have been restless to get outside and enjoy the day.

But… Now?

Drinking deeply from her glass, MJ sighed aloud and licked her lips.

There were other things she could do to make the time pass.

It didn’t matter that her friends had told her to not keep herself cooped inside the house. No one was holding her against her will in here. If she wanted to stay inside the same four walls – that was her decision, right?

It wasn’t healthy to keep herself so isolated, but she wasn’t sure how else to deal with her loss. It was only the first week, wasn’t it? Or was it the second? The third? Sucking down more of the lemonade, she felt the familiar warm sensation begin in her belly. _What does it matter?_ She questioned absently. She’d feel better in time.

That was all that she needed.

Time can fix any problem.

She just…

Draining the glass, she looked to the table again. The bottle was still open, so it couldn’t do any harm to have a little more, right? Maybe it would help her get some sleep. Nightmares were there to embrace her whenever she closed her eyes. Horrid dreams, where she saw Peter again. His lips had been torn free – revealing his gums, tongue and teeth. He also had gaping wounds in his sides that never healed – exposing his broken ribs – in the worst of them.

Beaten, bruised and torn apart… Her frightful dreams were beginning to slowly replace the man that MJ knew in the daytime.

She was never strong enough to save him. _‘Who can save the hero?’_ He’d asked her in the night.

MJ never had an answer.

But… Maybe her new acquaintance could tell her? Sitting down at the table again, MJ poured more of the copper-coloured spirit into her glass – this time without lemonade.

_ECHO’s Room – 3PM_

Exhaustion. It hit everyone differently, but right now – sleep was the enemy for ECHO. He wanted to keep going. The work to repair Ashley was on-going and the sooner he was done, the better he’d feel. However, HEA reminded him that he needed rest. And his pills. The rest he could avoid, but the medication he could not.

And his medication caused him to feel drowsy.

His bushy pale brows drew down sharply over his nose. The medication he’d taken without missing a beat. Sleep on the other hand…proved itself elusive, even with the medicine slowly seeping into his body. He didn’t want to miss anything. There were so many problems that he needed to fix with Ashley. The more he examined her, the more concerned he became. He’d designed her to think for herself and feel.

But all he’d taken was a brief glance through her memory banks before he detected a serious issue. He’d seen what had happened before he reached her, how she’d struggled to create some makeshift backup battery charger for herself. She’d nearly mangled her wrist to get the fresh port to work, had torn wires out of the walls to try to plug herself in. For power – to stay conscious. She had _hours_ where she could have contacted him, but had chosen to deal with the issue herself.

On her own, with far less knowledge of her systems than he had.

It had failed catastrophically, but she hadn’t been aware of that. She could have overloaded herself, detonated her internal power supply in the attempt. People could have been injured or worse. What she’d done was so risky, all because she didn’t want to alert him to a problem. The gynoid was so independent that she never wanted to tell him if she needed assistance. He’d gone back in her memories several days to see if he could track her charging patterns. She had an internal clock that needed to be replaced too.

Unfortunately, he’d stumbled on something that he doubted he should have seen. He’d noted an encounter between her and a young man. The man looked vaguely familiar, but he wasn’t sure why. It was after she backhanded the man and got on her motorcycle that ECHO had paused the memory replay and looked for more information.

Capturing the image from her memory, he plugged it into his main computer and began searching. It didn’t take long for him to have a result. ECHO began to regret he’d looked almost immediately.

Finding the initial report on Mitch Ryan had been surprising. He’d overheard the news in his lab about a photographer who had died due to brain trauma, but the face on the news report, the very same man hooked to a ventilator was the one he’d seen in Ashley’s memories.

He was no mathematician, but even he could count and come up with the conclusion that the photographer’s injuries had been caused by her. And she’d just _left_ the man there to die. ECHO had a very difficult decision ahead.

Leave her memories intact or remove it all. She was to blame for the photographer’s death and in turn… he was at fault. If she was caught, she’d be dissected, the same one deemed ‘The Greatest’ thing he’d ever built would be no more. No doubt his Ashley would be torn asunder, picked apart and in turn all of his laboratory would be flipped on its end.

But… What would happen to him?

He would truly be done for. Prison would never be kind to someone like him. Not with his illnesses and socialization problems. He’d be killed behind bars too.

In most instances, he would need to report to the authorities what he’d found, but the risk was great… far too great for him to decide in one day. He **had** to tell them regardless, didn’t he?

Or… Should he wipe her memory clean of what he’d discovered? To her, it would be as if it never happened. The only one who’d know was him alone. Could he bear such a burden though? A man’s life had come to a violent and painful end because of something that _he_ had built. Ashley was compassionate, or seemed to be in relation to him, but just how much work was needed to make her so with others?

The moral quandary was there. He was deciding without asking her what she thought he should do. But she was just a machine!

Right?

Where did the gynoid end and the self-aware being begin? Ashley Gardiner wasn’t alive at all, but she had grown a personality and interests apart from his own. Didn’t he at least owe it to her to give her the chance to decide? Would she even understand what kind of decision it was? He wasn’t honestly sure.

It was fair for him to give her the option wasn’t it? For the time being, he’d isolated the segments of her memory and blocked her access to it, all the way to that morning. Before that night, she would remember nothing at all. Not until he thought it was safe.

The last thought he had before slipping into slumber was hoping that his security protocols were enough to keep her away from those memories.

_ECHO’s Lab_

Normally, the blonde was too busy to sit still, so the continued inactivity was trying on her. How long would it take for her to get a new battery, let alone a new voice? HEA was in the room with her, as an impromptu guard, but what would it achieve? She was unable to tell what time it was now, frustrating marring her features. She was grateful that she was unaware of how she looked.

It must have been unpleasant to see herself with her throat open, along with her chest. ECHO had asked her if she wanted to see and she’d flatly refused. She wanted to keep that particular memory away from herself.

Speaking of memory… there were still many parts of hers missing. She’d tried to ask him, had worded her question while he faced her. Instead of responding, ECHO’s face had gone blank, and he pretended as if he hadn’t understood her at all.

Instead, he had assured her that soon she’d be back to her old self again. He had been skittish, which set her on edge. Just what was he hiding? Any additional attempts to discuss the matter further had failed.

What was her old self? She couldn’t even remember how she had ended up in his lab to begin with. Was there an accident that she hadn’t been aware of? ECHO put her to sleep earlier to check on her charging history, but when she woke – she noted a gap where there shouldn’t have been one.

The scientist and robotics expert reminded her of the battery failure, that she was supplied with electricity to remain alive. The thick cable in her chest connected to the main power supply. _Alive._ Was that what she truly was? Was there any sort of alternative for something like her? The bot stared blearily at the ceiling overhead. She vaguely understood discomfort to the point of tears that humans experienced, but the curious pressure behind her eyes was concerning. 

“Is there something you need, miss?” HEA asked, noticing her eyes moving around the lab. She motioned for her writing tablet and scribbled out a question for him.

_“HEA, when am I getting out of here? Tell me what you know,”_ she knew it wasn’t fair to demand anything of the smaller bot, but she was getting desperate. Uncertainty ate at her. She had never forgotten anything. Instead of an immediate response, the smaller bot took a moment to consider an answer. She mouthed HEA’s name in a way that indicated had she a vocal processor, she would have been screaming.

“That, Miss, is not for me to determine. You know the master is the one who decides anything.”

Testing the tension cables in her head, Ashley heavily rolled her eyes.

“I know that the wait is not what you desire…but you must be patient.”

Angrily, Ashley scribbled a new message on her tablet and turned it around. _“Desire has nothing to do with this, Hea…”_ Displeasure was easy to read on her face. _“I don’t even have a charging cycle to help me pass time. I’m…bored.”_

HEA shrugged its shoulders. The gesture was rigid and awkward as the bot wasn’t used to it. “I have fully completed my power cycle, Miss. So, I can keep you company.” The bot noted how Ashley’s lip on the right side curled up at that. “Miss?”

Ashley began scribbling a message in response. A variety of emotions visibly skittered across her features. She took a minute or two before turning the tablet around. _“Yippeeee!”_ That simple message shouldn’t have taken long unless she had erased what she originally intended. She was frowning heavily by then.

Unable to understand the social cues, HEA stood beside Ashley on the slab and stared at the ceiling. “So, what do you see up there, Miss?”

If the blonde had possessed a vocal processor, she would have been growling.

_The Next Morning – The Daily Bugle_

The morning meeting was wrapping up, after a minor delay. Jameson’s employees already looked ready to flee the boardroom. His behavior had already confused half the staff. After completely missing work the previous day, which was absolutely out of character for him, Jameson had returned with a crisp suit and boundless energy.

He was hyper-focused, and anyone who noticed he was looking their way was on edge and jittery. It was so bad that one of his employees had forgotten about Ashley’s absence and grabbed the usual order for the meeting.

Instead of being upset, Jameson had ignored his own order and took hers instead. Biting into the raspberry filled donut, the older man had barely kept his eyes from widening. It was very sweet, almost sickeningly so, but he understood why she liked them. He secretly began to wonder if the treats had been why she was so eager to attend the morning meetings.

He supposed it made sense. His gaze softened as he thought about her. He’d heard that she was still missing in action and was more concerned than ever.

“…If there are any additional questions,” he announced, in conclusion of the meeting. One of his employees raised a hand. “Yes?”

Pushing up his glasses, the young journalist set his notepad down on the table. “I was just wondering sir… Is Ashley doing alright?” More of them were becoming aware that there was a problem.

Frowning a little, Jameson lightly shook his head. “No clue Marshalls. I think we need to run a ‘Missing Person’ ad for Miss Gardiner.” _It’s such a shame,_ he thought. _That she has no family I can get in contact with._ As far as he knew, Ashley’s personal contacts were few and far between. She wasn’t overly social outside of work, either. She got along well with others while _on_ the job but as soon as work was over, she disappeared.

_Maybe she’s on the run from someone?_ If that was the case, posting about her in the newspaper might put her at risk. _What if she’s been abducted?_ No. No matter what concerns he might have; it was the right thing to put up a ‘Missing Person’ alert. He needed to get in touch with law enforcement first though. “Before you do that, Marshalls, I need to get in touch with the police.”

Grip tightening slightly on the coffee cup, Jameson was determined not to let his apprehension show. There was no need to unnecessarily distress them all. He was worried enough for her.

“If there’s nothing else--” He paused, hearing the phone in his office ringing. “Meeting dismissed. Let’s get to work, people.” This time, he left the boardroom before anyone else could, walking faster than normal to pick up that phone call. Normally, Ashley would have been there to answer it for him.

He felt a strange pang in his chest, but swallowed it down.

“Jameson!” JJ stated as soon as the phone reached his ears.

“She’s safe now…” A male voice on the end of the line stated plainly.

Bushy brows bunched together in confusion, Jameson’s blue eyes narrowed as he asked into the receiver. “Who?”

“Ashley. She’s safe, just sick. Don’t worry.” And then, there was a telltale click.

Yanking the phone from his ear, Jameson stared at it in muted horror. Paling visibly, he dropped the phone and rested a hand on the desk to stabilize himself. After a moment, he quickly checked the caller ID, but there was no hope to be found there. Whomever had just called scrambled their number before it even reached him. Ashley was ‘safe, but sick’. That’s what he’d been told.

Why did he not feel comforted by that news? He doubted that a hospital would have notified him like that. He had no way of figuring out who that was either.

_Do I have her address on file?_ He wondered, abandoning the coffee cup in his office. He decided to sit in his car for a moment to calm down before making any rash decisions.

_Maddison Square Garden – 11AM_

MJ struggled to stifle a grimace. She’d been up very late the night before, sick in the bathroom. Instead of confronting her loss head-on, she tried just to forget with enough alcohol. She had been successful – for a while. The warm, fuzzy feeling she felt while intoxicated made everything seem as if all was well. It was temporary, but something that she was slowly beginning to seek out to help her.

The thundering pain in her skull reminded her vividly of what she had foolishly done to herself. Knowing she had work today should have been an incentive to not drink much. Instead, she’d thrown caution to the wind and was now suffering.

Once she extracted hersefl out of bed that morning, she’d downed more Advil than she should have and struggled to get prepared for the day.

There had been momentary panic early on when her alarm went off, but as soon as she checked her calendar, she relaxed. She wasn’t due to work until noon. The thought of anything on her stomach now was nauseating, but she had to drink something. Gatorade had been the obvious choice, as Peter had plenty of the salty beverage shored away in the house.

So now, here she was, nursing a horrid hangover and trying to rehydrate. She’d tipped the cab driver extra for not trying to drag her into idle conversation. The oversized sunglasses she wore easily hid the reddened eyes from her activities the night before, but what was she going to do to hide them when she took off the glasses?

“Early as ever, I see,” The masculine voice addressing her was warm with familiarity. The response he received was silence, which was unusual. Not to be easily rebuffed, he sat down next to her on a stone bench. “Aww. Why so shy? That’s going to make things awkward if you don’t want to talk to me, seeing as we have to work together today.”

Instead of responding to the bait, MJ just lifted the Gatorade to her lips and drank down a healthy swallow. She wasn’t in the mood for his antics when she wasn’t hungover, so now she felt less inclined to get into idle conversation.

The man’s nose crinkled up at her beverage of choice. “There’s tastier things you can have in the morning.” Holding up his coffee, he leaned a little closer to her. “We have plenty of time for me to show you the little coffee shop I found. My treat?”

Grimacing at the offer, MJ turned her body away from him, presenting him with her back. Coffee was the _last_ thing she even wanted to think about today.

“Hey,” abandoning the banter, now he was concerned. Usually, he could illicit some sort of comment out of the opinionated redhead, but today wasn’t one of those days. “What’s wrong?” He placed a warm, gentle hand on her shoulder. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

She shook her head.

“Mary Jane… You don’t have to hide things from me.” He got up from the bench and knelt in front of her. “If there’s someone causing you a problem with your shoots, let me know okay?” He knew that his friend tended to swing between confident to self-conscious in short order. Right now, before a shoot though? Now was not the time.

“…Please just be quiet,” The words rolled off her tongue carefully. They were friends somewhat, and she didn’t want to insult him, however his usually upbeat attitude and energy was draining what little reserve she had. Groaning, she leaned forward in her seat, grasping her head. “It hurts.”

Puzzled, the man stood so that he blocked the sun in her path and tilted her sunglasses down a little. Whistling when he noticed how red her eyes were, he shook his head. “What did you do to yourself?”

Pushing his hand away roughly, she pulled the shades back up. “Sami…” The nickname for him easily rolled off her tongue. “What I do when I’m not here – that is none of your business.”

Putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender, he allowed a short laugh to escape. “Sure… Except I’m not the one who will have to explain to the photographer why his model has bloodshot eyes.” His words earned a glare. “Ah! I knew you could still respond to me. Not completely gone yet!”

Rubbing the left side of her forehead, MJ muttered under her breath. “Is it that obvious? I though they looked red in the mirror this morning…”

“Oh, don’t worry, MJ,” he replied, his head bobbing a little as he sat back down. He waited until he saw her sagging in relief before adding, “They look absolutely horrendous.” He bit his lip, watching as she turned to him – brows furrowed. “What. Did. You. Do?”

Absently, she waved at the air, not wanting to rehash it. “What does it matter? I can’t hide these.” Wobbly, MJ got to her feet, holding the Gatorade in a death grip.

He stood up again as well.

“Maybe I can reschedule the shoot.” As she spoke, she was already pulling her phone out of her purse. Before she could pull up the photographer’s number, her phone was yanked out of her hand. “Hey!”

“My dear, this is not a photographer that you reschedule on at the drop of a hat. Do that and you might not find work for the rest of the year.” Lightly shaking his head, Sami subtly pursed his lips. “We can hide the puffiness around your eyes with a heavier base coat today.” He gently grasped her chin, lifting the shades to peer into her squinting eyes. “Some Visine will calm down the redness too.”

His nose twitched at the underlining smell of alcohol coming from her mouth. “Toothpaste is needed to freshen up your breath, but no Listerine. That’ll make the stench worse.” A line formed between his heavy brows. “We need to head to the pharmacy before everyone else gets here.” Dropping her shades back in place, he grasped her free hand with his own.

“Wha--” MJ stood frozen in place. _Of course, she’d forgotten to brush her teeth._

“Come on, we don’t have much time.” The taller man tugged on her hand gently to get her to follow him. It was a simple matter, really, to hide what she’d done. _Not_ as easy was finding out why she had done it.

_ECHO’s Lab – 1PM_

Handling everything better today, ECHO zipped up his jacket. He had an errand to run today, one he was not looking forward to. “The connection should only be temporary…” He slowly explained to Ashley. The tank in front of him was occupied, building his newest design from the ground up. “You’ll be able to reach me while connected to the main board.” He offered her a faint smile.

The blonde wore a metallic brace that covered her from the chin to upper chest. A thick wire ran from it to ECHO’s primary console. He had plugged her into the main computer. She wasn’t certain how she was meant to take that. He obviously trusted her to do all of that.

“Be good while I’m gone.” He smothered a laugh at her reaction.

“You think you’re _so_ funny, I–” Hearing the voice that responded to her commands, Ashley cringed. It was the cold, mechanical female voice that made her so uneasy.

Hopefully understanding her discomfort, ECHO lightly pat her hand. “Don’t worry, Ash.” He assured her lightly. “You’ll get your own voice back in a few days.” The second problem was going to be redesigning a battery that could keep her going. It was obvious that her dead battery had problems. Thankfully, the schematics were in his databanks.

Retrieval should be a cinch.

Instead of replying, Ashley looked away.

“The number to contact me is in the computer.” HEA entered the room, holding a hat and set of shades. “And Ashley?” Waiting until the blonde turned to him, ECHO gratefully popped the hat on his head.

Reluctantly, her attention was directed back to ECHO.

“Keep an eye on me, hmm?” Winking, he turned around and spoke to the smaller bot. “Hea. Come.” The little bot put on its own clothing and followed ECHO.

Ashley’s face twitched a few times, as she tried to comprehend what he was telling her. _He said to keep an eye on him._ She remembered the messages she’d get at times from him, that glowing eye that would stare back at her. The numbers used never stayed the same past two days. Still, she obediently saved them in her phone and discarded them after that.

Was that what he meant? Allowing her eyes to roll closed, the blonde allowed herself to drift into a place she normally neared as she charged for the evening. There was no uncertainty, no indecision or doubt when she was charging. Just blissful ignorance. For a _person_ like her, she teetered between existence and oblivion. So, while she ‘slept’, she felt no fear because the tunnel she felt herself falling down would eventually open into bright light all over again.

Recall would arrive less than a second later, and she’d be able to easily remember what happened while she was unawares. Her body remained on the alert, even if her ‘brain’ rested. She was always recording and ready, no matter what.

But…

When Ashley opened her eyes again, she was startled to find herself gazing down at her own body. Lying still on the table, she looked even more artificial than before. She was uncomfortable seeing herself like that, with wires running all over.

Where was she though? She moaned in frustration, unable to figure out where her hands were. Why couldn’t she move her hands at least? The telltale sounds of static caught her attention, diverting it from her strangely numb body parts.

_Elsewhere_

“How do I even ask that, Hea?” ECHO asked, as both he and the bot climbed into a self-driving car. There was of course, a ‘prop’ set in place to appear as a driver in the seat.

“I am unaware, Master.” The little bot replied. “I was never built to answer that question.”

Frowning, ECHO plugged the address into the backseat monitor quickly. He didn’t even know why he was venting like this to HEA. The bot was not designed to feel or understand the _meaning_ behind some of what it was told.

Still…the company was nice.

“I know, Hea. You’re still wonderful company regardless.” Putting his seat belt on, he pushed a green button on the screen. The car began to move. The task was a simple one.

All they had to do was return to the apartment complex, close out Ashley’s lease and move her items into ECHO’s lab. He wondered though – what to do if she had furniture in there? He had a rough idea of what he needed to take with him, but since he’d not gotten any of her input…

_Maddison Square Garden – 3PM_

The shoot was proving to be a success, beyond what MJ would have ever expected. She felt like absolute garbage, but at current, she looked gorgeous. Sami had proved himself, going above and beyond to ‘bring her back to the land of the living’ as he’d so eloquently said it. The eye drops, breath mints and gum had perked her up considerably. While he’d advised her against taking any additional medication for pain, he was ensuring that she stopped to keep herself hydrated. They were on one of those breaks, while he checked on how well her make-up was holding.

“Doing well so far,” he began, holding a make-up sponge in one hand. He was studying her face, looking for areas in need of a touch up. “How are you feeling?” From what he could see, the base coat and powder were still holding. He was relieved, because if he had to redo it all, the hairstylist would be furious with them both. He saw MJ’s eyes crinkle at the corners as she drank from her water bottle. “Much better, I hope,” he continued the conversation, trying to prompt her to speak. “I think today’s shoot ends at five, right?”

MJ’s expression went blank for a moment, as she struggled to remember the schedule for the day. “No. Six. I think…” Setting down the water, she reached for her phone, quickly checking her schedule to be sure. “Yeah. I’m here until six.”

“And after?” Her friend casually asked.

Both brows rose at that in question.

“Do you have plans after the shoot or were you planning on going home?” Setting his sponge down, he sat in a stool across from MJ.

“What do you mean, Samuel?” Shaking her head lightly, she lightly tapped her nails on her denim covered left leg. For today’s shoot, she was modeling various high low blouses. There were so many different colors and choices for bottoms. She was also wearing loaner jewelry that would need to be returned before she left.

“So, it’s Samuel now, innit?” Stretching out his legs, he crossed them at the ankles. “Did I hit a nerve?” His moods were never easily read on his face, so it wasn’t evident if he’d been offended or not. Maybe he had been teasing her, but the glint in his eyes when he was joking was absent.

MJ was the open book on the other hand, not him. “It’s not fair for you to ask that, Sami.” MJ quickly corrected herself after an awkward moment, a grimace marring her features momentarily. She was feeling marginally better and wasn’t in the mood for a fight. “You don’t need to be concerned. I’m…fine.” Why couldn’t they just stay on light banter? Why did he have to probe? She knew that he was just concerned. All of her friends were.

Before, Mary Jane had been very social and went out with her friends frequently. Ever since Peter had…left, she hadn’t been the same. She feared that she would see judgement in their eyes if she went out now. The poor little redhead heartbroken because the man she’d thrown away had stayed gone.

Except she knew the truth. Peter _had_ come back, but then he’d been cruelly ripped away from her.

Everything was still fresh. Her relationship with him had only ended because of that letter she left him. At the time, she’d felt justified. He had barely been home between patrols at night and work. When he was there, they barely talked. She had felt like she was being pushed out of his life and had made a decisive move to get him to pay attention to her.

Never in her wildest dreams had MJ expected Peter to abruptly disappear like he had. He’d been away for months. She remembered tearfully begging his former employer to keep running the “Missing Person” ad after the first month, but Jameson had told her that he couldn’t. Slowly, she’d watched as everyone gradually ‘forgot’ about Peter.

MJ had never forgotten him, but knew that trying to keep his picture in the paper was going to be expensive.

_“I’m sorry, but I have to start running stories again,”_ was what Jameson had told her. _“At the end of the day, it comes down to business. I can’t keep the entire front page about Parker. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be found.”_ Even then, his voice hadn’t seemed certain at all, but he’d tried to convey otherwise.

Months of indecision had followed, but she held on hope. Then, Peter came back to New York…only to be torn away from them all. MJ had no way to make amends now – she’d run out of time that she hadn’t known was in such short supply.

After images of the explosion were plastered all over the newspapers, she’d gone to Pier Sixty to see just how bad it had been.

Only devastation was there to greet her. Between the shattered glass, broken and burned wooden platform and the twisted, bent metal everywhere – it was a shock – and she felt overwhelmed at what she’d seen.

Part of her wanted to still hope that maybe there was just a tiny sliver of a chance that Peter had survived, that he would come back to her. All she needed to do was just hold on.

Daily, that was proving to be a struggle. Her hopes and dreams with him were slowly turning into an albatross around her neck, threatening to pull her under.

But how far down could she go? The pretty young woman worried that there would be no ‘bottom’ for her, felt herself sinking slower daily – the grim reality of each day threatening to consume her.

Samuel leaned forward in his seat, watching as MJ seemed to shrink in on herself. _It’s very good,_ he realized with growing comprehension. _That she can’t hide behind a mask._ “You can call it what you will,” he replied, glibly. “I’m just checking to see how my friend is doing.” He checked his watch then. “My friend who has plans tonight, even if she hadn’t set them up herself.”

Mouth dropping open, MJ was about to protest.

“Oh! Look at the time!” Samuel interrupted, looking at his watch again. Helping MJ out of her seat, he gently ushered her back towards the stage set up for them. “Back to work! Chop chop!”

Stunned, the redhead merely nodded faintly. “…Thanks Sami.”

_Outside A Non-Descript Apartment Building_

The trip had been uneventful. What did ECHO expect exactly? The only part that had bothered him was the traffic. He never spent much time on the road, so wasn’t entirely sure of the traffic patterns. Twice, he had nodded off during the drive, lulled to sleep by the lack of motion.

The sheer number of cabs on the streets unnerved him too. There were so many on the road, but so few people actually getting in them. Then, he saw different cars with logos on them. One of the cab drivers rolled down his window and hurled profanities at one of the other cars.

_That_ driver merely drove off with three passengers. ECHO rubbed his eyes, not entirely sure what he was seeing. _Is it some sort of additional option for passengers?_ Scratching his bald head, he frowned. While legally Gunner Berry was fully capable of driving… ECHO himself did not want to. Obtaining his driver’s license was a mere formality. As soon as he was able to build a self-driving car, he did.

When they finally arrived at the apartment building, it was easy to say that ECHO was more than ready to turn around and go back home. Unfolding his long body from inside the car, he stretched, smothering down a yawn. _I didn’t make a very good impression the last time I was here._ He fretted.

He fiddled with his hands, waiting for HEA to join him after he reached the front door, clasping and unclasping his fingers. His pale hands were encased in black gloves, which gave off a faint squeal of complaint as he squished them together.

Black, it turned out, was ECHO’s color of choice for this venture. Staring at his ghastly visage in the reflective glass, he again tried to rationalize with himself what he was doing. _I told her I was bringing back her things, didn’t I?_

As he reached out for the door, he heard a faint buzzing sound overhead. Looking up, a faint smile curved his lips upward and he held up a gloved hand.

“Sir?” HEA asked, reaching ECHO. The small bot was wearing a small black backpack.

Shaking his head, ECHO patiently waited as the small black drone drifted down from the sky and landed in his hand. The design mirrored a dragonfly, the paint on it dark blue with yellow specs. “Nice for you to join us.” He spoke softly. Glancing to the small bot, Echo handed over the drone. “Hold this for us.”

“Yes, sir.”

Turning to the door again, ECHO inhaled deeply, tucked his chin and pulled the door open.

_ECHO’s Lab­_

More static was heard across the lab as Ashely’s body continued to lay still and motionless on the slab. As confused and frightened as the blonde had been before, she was aghast now. Feeling the pull of the superior machines around her, Ashley had inadvertently had her ‘consciousness’ sucked into ECHO’s main computer.

It was an accident, right? She couldn’t be sure.

ECHO had literally told her to ‘keep an eye’ on him. That wouldn’t have been possible if she was stuck in her broken-down body. While she was unable to feel her arms or legs now, she was slowly gaining the ability to tap into the other machinations of the lab. Locating the smaller flying bots had been a surprise. At first, she felt disoriented – looking through the eyes of one of them. The buzzing that filled her ‘ears’ as it lifted off eventually drifted to the back of her mind as she took to the skies.

Flight was never something that Ashely was fond of. Because her body was so heavy, additional energy was required for her to move in general. While she didn’t feel normal ‘muscular’ strain, she was aware of exactly how much force was required for her to take even one step.

Jumping, twirling and spinning around all required varying degrees of torque for her body to complete the action. Being on an airplane for the first time had been unsettling as she had no direct control of how far from the ground she was. Eventually, she’d lost the ability to calculate just how far off the ground she was.

Being in the drone was completely different. The small machine was a true featherweight. She’d never felt so light in her existence. With a little more exploring, she realized that she could actually track which direction ECHO had gone into.

Had he set that up for her?

She couldn’t be sure.

As a drone, it didn’t matter where she was. No one below could actually see her, unless they looked for her.

So many questions swirled through her mind as she detected the vehicle ECHO was riding in. Where was he going? Another difficulty presented itself as she continued to track her owner. She didn’t know how long the drone’s power supply would last and figured that she would need to find a spot to land on. But where?

She buzzled around the car until she finally attached herself to the undercarriage, latching on easily. Though she would never admit it to ECHO, the sensation of the open air caressing the far smaller body she inhabited made her very happy. She couldn’t believe how many sensors were built into the drone. If she’d been in her more humanoid form, she would have been smiling from ear to ear.

It felt so _liberating_ to not be tethered in one place, able to move about as freely as she wished.

Only…

She had no ability to verbally communicate as the dragonfly drone. Ashley was unable to taste any of the human foods she’d come to enjoy. And ECHO…

_Gunner…_ Her mind supplied. To her, suddenly he was larger than life.

As beautiful as the open road was, as wonderful as flight felt, it was all fleeting. The body that really belonged to her was still in the lab. _That_ body was able to do so much more than a drone. She wanted it back _badly_.

_I hope this was a good idea. Maybe he was only teasing the idea of following him?_

Later on, that smile he bestowed when he saw her though.

_Could it –_

_4 th Level – Outside Ashley’s Apartment_

“Mister Berry, you’ve made things quite difficult for me.” The landlord was not pleased to see the pale-skinned man again. His arms were folded, displeasure evident on his features. “Did you know that there is a fine imposed for falsely calling for emergency services?! Even though I explained the situation, they wouldn’t listen!” He frowned up at the taller man. “Now you want me to let you back into her apartment, but you haven’t even told me where she is!” _Or if she’s alive…_ The landlord never voiced the thought, but it was evident on his face that he did not trust the other man.

ECHO’s jaw tensed at that, and he lowered his head. “I will pay the bill.” His voice was rough. “Whatever cost that have been incurred either by the emergency services call or anything else, I will pay it.”

The landlord rolled his eyes. “With what? An IOU?” The older man shook his head. “Things don’t work like that around here.”

Biting down on his bottom lip, ECHO did his best to keep his features mild. He was _of no use_ in social situations. Things for him were always better when he had a screen and several miles between him. “I assure you, Mister Kerr that I mean no harm at all.” Removing his black hat and glasses was something ECHO never thought he would do, but this time he did. “She’s ill because of a malfunction in a device that is implanted in her. I work in a field that creates mechanical devices for medical use.”

Understanding began blooming on the landlord’s face.

ECHO continued before the older man would think to object. “As I am a specialist in the field, she’s been moved to a facility that can see to her needs.”

Seeing sincerity in the gray eyes gazing down at him, the landlord bowed his head a moment. “I understand. Is… Is she able to talk at least?”

Frowning some, ECHO glanced to HEA, as the small bot was staying out of the way for now. In the bot’s gloved hand was the small drone. “…Yes.” He replied after an uncomfortable moment. “But she won’t sound like herself.” Pulling a slim phone from his pocket, Echo began dialing.

_ECHO’s Lab_

When the initial call came in, Ashley was surprised. She wasn’t certain why, because she could easily see and hear what was happening at her former apartment. It took a moment for her to figure out how to answer the call still.

**_“Hello?”_ **

… “Ashley… Mister Kerr here was concerned about how you’re faring.”

_4 th Level – Outside Ashley’s Apartment_

ECHO put the phone on speaker.

“… ** _You can tell him that I am doing as well as expected.”_** She spoke. Her voice lacked most of the emotional inflection that both men were used to hearing.

“He can hear you, Ash.” ECHO replied, sadness seeping through his tone. His shoulders sagged.

**_“…Stop.”_ **

Her sudden outburst caught ECHO unawares. His eyes widened marginally.

**_“…It’s not your fault that my implant failed. I’m just glad you reached me in time. Mister Kerr, please let Gunner pick up whatever he needs.”_ **

Pacified, the landlord bobbed his head. “Of course. What are you picking up today, Mister Berry?”

ECHO was frozen in place. He’d never _ever_ heard Ashley used his name like that. His eyes filled, and he swallowed hard.

“Are you alright, Mister Berry?” The calm he’d felt over hearing that his tenant was safe was overridden by new concern for the tall man standing in front of him.

**_“…What’s wrong?”_** Ashley’s voice, distorted though it was, came through the phone loud and clear. **_“…Don’t do this to me, Gunner!”_** The sound of scraping metal was heard through the phone. **_“…I can’t get to you! Did you take your medicine?! Please, don’t—”_**

ECHO abruptly hung up the phone call. He drew in a shuddering breath. Swiping a hand over his eyes, he spoke, trying to keep his voice even. “I’m… Fine, Mister Kerr. Thank you for your concern.”

“So…” Larry Kerr eyed the pale man for a brief moment. “You really love her, don’t you?” Off ECHO’s alarmed expression, Larry shook his head. “I know what you’re going to say. It’s unethical, as she’s your patient. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it between us.”

ECHO didn’t seem to relax too much after that. It _was_ what he felt for her, but it was wrong. It was very wrong. Ashley was a _machine_. Having the feelings that he did for her didn’t make sense. None of the current situation made any sense.

“What are you going to pick up today?”

ECHO, his pale colored eyes now tinged with red responded in a clear tone. “Everything. She’s moving out today.”

As expected, his phone began to ring.

\--

**Author’s Note:** Thank you so much for reading! This chapter turned out to be more of a rollercoaster than I expected. I got stuck after penning the first few pages, then abruptly lost all interest in the storyline. I have a document that lays out what is supposed to go into each chapter, but when I looked at it, I would walk away.

I felt like I was struggling to write, fearful that I’d be unable to do it and that my readers were going to rise as one to kill me.

I briefly toyed with the idea of making this a split chapter. I’ve seen it successfully done. Part 1 and 2.

Chapter splits like that just aren’t my style though. At least not right now.

I also refuse to do “Author’s Note” chapters to explain what was happening on my end.

Thank you so much for sticking around, and I’ll see you in the next chapter!

XXO

~J. Lyst


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